


Homecoming

by Ainikki



Series: Enlightenment [2]
Category: Dororo (Anime 2019), Dororo (Manga)
Genre: Assassination attempts, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Political Intrigue, Reunion, Strangers to Friends, Wedding, Will They or Won't They?, author plays fast-and-loose with Onin War political fallout, friends to 'it's complicated', omiai (arranged marriages)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 139,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23221228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainikki/pseuds/Ainikki
Summary: Sequel to "Enlightenment." Hyakkimaru returns to Kaga, prompting a political succession crisis. Kagemitsu Daigo decides to solve the crisis by getting married. Naturally, everyone who's anyone will be at the wedding...including an assassin or three.
Relationships: Biwamaru & Dororo (Dororo), Biwamaru & Hyakkimaru (Dororo), Daigo Kagemitsu & Hyakkimaru (and they hate every second of it), Daigo Kagemitsu/OFC, Dororo/Hyakkimaru(?!), Hyakkimaru & OCs (Iwasa&Co.), dororo & hyakkimaru
Series: Enlightenment [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669579
Comments: 65
Kudos: 45





	1. You Can't Go Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't much Dororo/Hyakkimaru fic out there (for good reason, and I understand the squick; all of my other Dororo fic is gen!). But...I had an idea I wanted to explore. It's gonna be weird, and a little silly, but the idea is the idea and I don't fight these things. Though I'm a slash and gen-heavy writer, I did start out in my bad old beginner days writing (gasp!) het, so perhaps this is a return to form.
> 
> Social awkwardness, weird romance, political intrigue, and war drama ahoy! Though the first part of the fic is going to be pretty heavy on domestic details, because I think my kids need a break. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarou shrugs, then glances in the direction of the market guards. 
> 
> "Oh," Hyakkimaru says dismissively when he notices who Tarou is looking at. "Those people. Are they giving you any trouble?"
> 
> He shakes his head. "It's not me they want gone," he says. "It's you."
> 
> "Why?"
> 
> "Well..." He gestures for Hyakkimaru to lean in closer. "They say you're Daigo's son. His heir. But that can't be, because Dororo is his heir--isn't that true?"
> 
> "I'm not his heir," Hyakkimaru says. He refuses to be. "Dororo is. That's right."
> 
> Tarou nods and appears visibly relieved. "I heard them say you were going to kill her," he says in a voice that's almost a whisper. "But you'd never do that--right?"
> 
> "Exactly right." He nods firmly and holds up his hand. "I solemnly swear that I will not kill Dororo." Daigo is inching up his want-to-kill list, though. 
> 
> Or, the one where Hyakkimaru is not good at making friends.

Dororo opens her eyes wide. Hyakkimaru is standing next to her, holding her left arm steady as she uses her right hand to prime the gun she's got clenched between her hand and the crook of her arm. She aims at the target they've drawn on a withered old cedar tree and fires.

Two centimeters off center.

Better than last week, when she'd been four centimeters off. And the week before that, when she'd barely managed to nick the tree.

"Not bad," Hyakkimaru says, damning with faint praise in her opinion. "We'll make a marksman of you yet."

She smiles a little to herself, and her stomach rumbles.

Hyakkimaru smirks. "Some things never change." Hyakkimaru extracts the gun from her grip with one solid pull, putting out the matchstick between his fingers. He moves toward the cedar tree they've been using as target practice for the past few weeks.

They set out one of Hyakkimaru's ragged old blankets and break out stacks of onigiri, some filled with fish as well as rice and wrapped in seaweed. Dororo inhales her food, unselfconscious, not needing refinement or table manners out here. If she were a little girl, this meal would be a feast and not a picnic lunch.

"We have to go back," he says, not eating anything.

Dororo polishes off one of her onigiri and looks at the sky. It's a cool clear day, bright with sunshine, and the forest is still and peaceful, stunned silent by gunfire. "Not yet."

"Daigo might send them again," he mutters, staring at the ground between his fingers.

"Oh good," Dororo says, selecting another onigiri. "We haven't played hide-and-seek this week yet."

***

"Hide-and-seek" is Dororo's pet term for having Daigo's masters of scouts chase them through the woods to bring them back to Enuma. They do this frequently, but not every day--presumably because they have actual scouting duties. They're sent often enough that it annoys Hyakkimaru; it's not like he and Dororo don't know the way back to town from less than ten kilometers away. 

He knows why they come, though. There are two reasons: the first is that Dororo is still Daigo's heir and needs some kind of official protection, for appearances' sake if nothing else; the second is that neither Kurakawa nor Oosuji, Daigo's scoutmasters and loyal retainers, trust Hyakkimaru at all.

Hyakkimaru and Kurakawa in particular had gotten off on the wrong foot. Hyakkimaru had come back to Kaga with Tarou and two pack horses loaded with burn ointment. Daigo, ever helpful, had failed to introduce him to anyone, and so Kurakawa had assumed, somewhat rationally, that some of the medicine Hyakkimaru carried could be poison.

Hyakkimaru is not always good with words. This has been demonstrated by his catastrophic failures and near-misses talking himself into and out of tight places; usually, he needs to fight his way out. He accepts this about himself, but starting his homecoming in Kaga with a duel against one of Daigo's most loyal men is not something he'd planned.

Kurakawa's first and favored weapon is a bow. Hyakkimaru hadn't known that at the time, but in hindsight it makes sense; when he'd attacked Hyakkimaru, he had done so from range, but Hyakkimaru has dodged hundreds of arrows from Daigo's people in his lifetime, and he had managed to avoid these easily while yelling at Tarou to get back and flee into the trees. Then he'd closed the distance with his swords, and Kurakawa had been ready with his own shortsword and a dagger, trying to grapple him close enough to stab. From that Hyakkimaru had thought he'd been trained as a brawler or infantry soldier. He hadn't been wrong, exactly; all of Daigo's scouts are trained in multiple weapons and styles of martial arts.

What Hyakkimaru had realized, and rapidly, was that men who are proficient with all weapons are usually expert at none.

So he had waited for Kurakawa to close the distance again, then used his kodachi to bracket his chest in and cut inwards and up, under the man's ribs on both sides. The kodachi had cut through Kurakawa's light armor like paper, but Hyakkimaru had moderated the force of the cuts. The blow had not been meant to kill him, but to make him stop attacking.

As Hyakkimaru had watched him stagger and drop his dagger from numb fingers, the woman scoutmaster, Oosuji, had stepped forward to stop the fight, giving Hyakkimaru a look of grudging admiration. Then she had lifted Kurakawa, supporting him over her shoulder, and walked off dragging him. 

As they had left, Hyakkimaru had offered to pay to repair Kurakawa's armor, but Kurakawa had refused. Whenever they encounter one another outside Daigo's palace or in the woods outside Enuma now, the look Kurakawa gives him lets him know exactly where he stands--and the glare Oosuji gives him usually matches Kurakawa's.

That situation is going to blow up, eventually. He can feel it.

***

After his fight with Kurakawa, he'd met Dororo on the bridge. She had tripped over him, causing a major traffic jam and spooking dozens of horses. And ever since, she has either been with him or close by, as if she is afraid he is going to leave again.

That, too, is a rational fear. He can't stay in Kaga forever. He hadn't even intended to stay for a day. But he knows himself, and knows that what he'd said to Daigo at the Hall of Hell is true: Dororo has a way of worming her way into his life, and he tends to let her.

He needs to talk to her about going back to Konzo. He's been waiting for Iwasa and Akiko to arrive, since they'll provide the perfect excuse to travel onward, but they've been detained by spring floods coming down from the mountains; the wooden bridge between Asakura territory and Kaga had gotten washed out the day after he and Tarou had crossed it.

So he can't go back to Konzo unless he rents or buys a boat. And he can't do that immediately, either, since Iwasa had managed to send him a message by courier telling him that he and Akiko are taking the scenic route to avoid the flood damage. He's stuck in Kaga, or at least the area surrounding it, until Iwasa gets here.

If he didn't know for a fact that Iwasa had no control over the weather, he would have accused him of engineering this scenario. Iwasa had always pushed him to go home--while he still had one.

Tarou is stuck in Kaga with him, but that seems to suit him fine. The city is entirely different from when Hyakkimaru had left it six years ago: thronged with people with money to spend, clean and well-fed and happy. Konzo is not as prosperous as Enuma, not yet; but it reminds him of the village he'd adopted in many ways. Here was a place where ordinary people created wealth and stability, and thrived in peace. It's nice to see, though he still finds it hard to relax in crowds.

He had also managed to register as a merchant in Enuma, which comes with complimentary protection of the entire marketplace from vandalism, theft or violence. Hyakkimaru is grateful for that policy, and the resources that back it up: because of it, he is able to split time between Tarou and Dororo without feeling like he's putting Tarou in danger.

He had asked Tarou if he had any concerns, of course, but Tarou had expressed none. He's a better salesman than Hyakkimaru: a faster talker, quick to please and compliment. Sometimes when Hyakkimaru sits and mixes more ointment or fever medicine with him, he jokes that Hyakkimaru's strong-and-silent act scares away the customers.

It's not an act if it's who you are, but Hyakkimaru just shrugs at that kind of joke. If Tarou feels safe here, and has reliable protection, Hyakkimaru won't insist on more. There are roving bands of guards that line the street on either side market, and more guards at every gate. Besides, Tarou is not the helpless little boy whose home was burned and who was taken and enslaved and raped; not anymore. Hyakkimaru has taught him to use the shortsword hidden under his clothes, and while he's not expert he's competent; and Akiko had spent hours teaching him the vital points to stab in the hours they were supposed to be sleeping. If anyone tries messing with Tarou this time, they'll be in for a surprise.

Hyakkimaru returns from shooting practice and running rings around scouts one afternoon to find Tarou in the middle of the town square, doing brisk business still even though the market's about to close. He reports the earnings for the day with a bright smile, and Hyakkimaru asks him if there were any incidents or causes of concern, and he shakes his head--but then he freezes. "Uh," he says nervously. "I did, actually, um. Hear something. Today."

Hyakkimaru tenses. "What is it? Tell me."

"Well...You go off into the woods with Dororo, almost every day," Tarou says. "People talk." 

He narrows his eyes. "What people?"

Tarou shrugs, then glances in the direction of the market guards. Some of them are spies for Daigo, and all of them work for him. Or Dororo, but the lines of demarcation can be hard to see. "Who do you think?" Tarou asks. 

"Oh," Hyakkimaru says dismissively when he notices who Tarou is looking at. "Those people."

"Those people are Daigo's people," Tarou says. His tone is serious. "He rules here. You haven't forgotten?"

"Of course not." Daigo doesn't seem to have told anyone about their personal history, which is a help in some ways and a hindrance in others. "Are they giving you any trouble?"

He shakes his head. "It's not me they want gone," he says. "It's you."

"Why?" Though really, he can guess...but he'd like to hear what the popular reasoning is. It's hard to fight the charges against you if you don't know what they are.

"Well..." He gestures for Hyakkimaru to lean in closer. "They say you're Daigo's son. His heir. But that can't be, because Dororo is his heir--isn't that true?"

"I'm not his heir," Hyakkimaru says. He refuses to be. "Dororo is. That's right."

Tarou nods and appears visibly relieved. "I heard them say you were going to kill her," he says in a voice that's almost a whisper. "But you'd never do that, and if you're not his heir you'd have no reason to--right?"

"Exactly right." He nods firmly and holds up his hand. "I solemnly swear that I will not kill Dororo." Daigo is inching up his want-to-kill list, though. "Let's get everything packed up."

***

He and Dororo don't even get a chance to practice shooting before Oosuji is on them the next day. Hyakkimaru moves through the trees to the new rendezvous point, hearing Oosuji and Dororo bicker as he goes: 

"How much longer are you going to chase us, Oosuji?" she gasps as she lands above Hyakkimaru in a battered oak tree surrounded by sycamores and pines.

"How much longer are you going to abscond to the woods with strange men, Dororo-sama?" Oosuji replies.

Hyakkimaru looks at Dororo, then points to himself in a sort of 'who, me?' gesture. "Given present company, I don't think I'm all that weird." He hears the keening of an arrow and leaps to a higher branch of the tree. Oosuji has them mostly surrounded, but there's always an opening somewhere--

"Your opinions don't matter to me," Kurakawa cuts in, leaping into a tall sycamore some twenty feet away from Hyakkimaru. He climbs to his level in a flurry of movement, then draws a black arrow from his quiver and nocks it. "You won't be able to run as fast with one of these in your leg."

Dororo and Hyakkimaru briefly exchange glances. Then, almost faster than the eye can track, they spread out in a fan shape, moving in opposite directions toward their new agreed-upon rendezvous point. This is an old familiar game by now--hide, while Daigo's lackeys seek.

Kurakawa and Oosuji know the location of the first rendezvous point they'd made, so to be safe Hyakkimaru leaves a red piece of cloth at that checkpoint and keeps running; red means to redirect to the third rendezvous point, in an old cave where medicinal mushrooms grow. Hyakkimaru had spent a lot of time there as a child, and because the mouth of the cave is all but hidden by the trees, neither Oosuji nor Kurakawa had found it--yet.

He gets there first and ducks inside, pressing his hands and forehead against the cool white stone in gratitude. Dororo joins him less than five minutes later, looking harried; an arrow had grazed her arm, but the leather armor she wears for sword training had absorbed most of the damage. She stumbles into him as she enters the cave, entirely exhausted and out of breath.

"They're getting better at this," she says with some resentment.

"Or maybe we're just out of practice." He frees his water pouch from his belt and hands it to her. She accepts it gratefully, and they sit in companionable silence for a while as Dororo gulps down water. They wait for the search to die down so they can separate without being seen: Dororo to Daigo's palace, him to Tarou's market stall.

After a few minutes have passed, there's a crackling sound like something moving in the underbrush. They hold their breath together, but the sound passes.

The silence stretches, and Hyakkimaru realizes that he's alone with Dororo in a quiet place; and this strikes him as a good place to talk. Without entirely thinking it through, he says, "We haven't really talked about it." Then he listens for footsteps. Nothing.

"Talk about what?" Dororo asks distractedly, eyes roaming the trees around the cave for signs of Kurakawa. Hyakkimaru knows he's not there. He would have heard him by now.

"Me leaving Kaga," he says neutrally.

"Which time?" she asks, and the question has some bite to it. She doesn't look at him. "Now, or five years ago?"

They pause in their canvassing of the area for pursuers and look directly at each other, and for all that they've been in close contact for the past few weeks, this feels closer, intimate and terrifying, like being naked and wounded in front of someone.

"You left me," Dororo says. Her eyes are bright.

"I left you with Biwamaru in a safe place," he says. "I didn't want you to follow where I went."

"Why?" she breathes out.

"Because I knew it would be dangerous."

She rolls her eyes. "Fuck danger. You and I killed twelve demons and burned down Daigo's palace, for buddha's sake. Did you really think I couldn't handle it?"

He shakes his head. "That's not it."

"Then what?" she snaps, hisses, almost yells, but she remembers to keep her voice down because the scouts may be close.

He doesn't have an answer. Or, he does, but not one that would satisfy her. His journey with Akiko, Tarou and Iwasa had taught him vital things about himself, but he doesn't know how to present those things without making Dororo resentful--or jealous.

The silence they sit in after that is far from companionable.

***

Hyakkimaru wakes up with a knife at his throat.

Faster than thinking, he uses his chin to clamp down on the hand to prevent it from digging too far in, then elbows his attacker in the ribs. They go sprawling from him, arms wide, and Hyakkimaru uses the opportunity to get the knife away from the attacker.

It's Kurakawa. He should have expected that. He levels the knife at him. "Killing people while they sleep, huh," he says. "I know it's the spy thing to do, but I thought Daigo had outgrown that kind of cowardice."

"I'm not here on Daigo's orders," Kurakawa says. "I'm here because you're a threat to him and Dororo-sama, and I will eliminate you by any means possible."

Hesitantly, Hyakkimaru raises the knife he's holding so that the hilt faces up: no threat in him. "I don't consider myself your enemy," he says, because that's accurate. He kind of hates Kurakawa and Oosuji, but not in a personal way. They interfere with his movements, probably on Daigo's orders, and he resents it; but his dislike doesn't extend far beyond that. Far be it for him to judge loyal people for doing their jobs, especially when they've barely even tried to kill him yet.

Kurakawa nods at him shallowly. "You're right. I also do not consider us enemies. But take a moment. Consider what your presence here means."

Hyakkimaru cocks his head. "I'm here as a peddler selling ointment, and as a friend of Dororo," he says. "What else would my 'presence' here possibly mean?"

"You are Daigo's heir."

It takes great internal effort not to sucker punch Kurakawa in the gut. "Maybe I was when I was born," he says, "but that's not what I am now."

"You can't change who you are," Kurakawa says. "This isn't a game, son."

Hyakkimaru flinches. He does not have to get into a pissing contest with Daigo over Dororo. In fact, he refuses to. But Kurakawa is forcing his hand, it seems. "I'm aware."

"Are you?" he says. His hand is on the hilt of a dagger, still sheathed; Hyakkimaru could have the knife embedded in his chest before he draws it. "Then I'll give you two options. Leave the quiet way," he says, and his voice drops almost to a whisper, "or the noisy way."

Hyakkimaru offers him a bitter grin. "It's unfortunate, but...you really don't know me that well."

He knocks out Kurakawa with the handle of his own knife, then ties his hands and feet and carries him all the way to Daigo's palace. On his way there, it starts to rain, which does little for his mood.

Most of the servants have retired by the time he reaches the palace, but there are still guards on the gate. He's approached the building several times since returning to Enuma, but he hasn't been inside yet; too many old memories. 

He stands on the threshold with Kurakawa, looking at two guards whose faces he doesn't know, and remembers that Jukai died not far from this very spot. The knowledge makes his arms shake and his face hot. 

He holds up the barely-conscious Kurakawa for the guards' inspection. He is recognized, as Hyakkimaru thought he might be, and so they're permitted to pass right through.

And then he is inside the palace he remembers burning down, searching for Daigo in a maze of rooms and people. Several times, Kurakawa almost comes to, and Hyakkimaru clamps down on his jugular to keep him unconscious. Kurakawa is his pass to get in here, and he doesn't want him causing trouble.

Daigo's rooms are at the end of a long corridor lined with delicate art on rice paper that catches the light; it looks like sea waves and mountain forests. The art is a detail that Hyakkimaru doesn't remember from this place, and he considers the idea that it may be new. 

"Hyakkimaru," Daigo says, and his tone is resigned. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hyakkimaru proffers Kurakawa's unconscious body like a plate of food. Come to think of it, Kurakawa's getting heavy, and he's already served his purpose, so Hyakkimaru lays him out gently and approaches Daigo, a few hesitant steps at a time. "Your goons are getting presumptuous," he says. "This one tried to kill me." He produces Kurakawa's knife from his obi, as proof.

Daigo sighs heavily. "I warned him you were out of his league. He acted against my orders."

"Will you kill him?"

"Probably not," Daigo says. "Loyal scouts are hard to find." A pause. "Does that bother you?"

Hyakkimaru shakes his head. "I came to return him to you. And to say I won't be coming back."

Daigo simply stares at him for a moment. "I would like to believe you," he says, "but I don't."

Hyakkimaru frowns. "Why not?"

Daigo shrugs. "What would Dororo say?"

"That doesn't matter," Hyakkimaru says. "Now that Kurakawa's failed with me, he might put my traveling companions in danger. I can't risk staying here."

Daigo raises an eyebrow. "And Dororo?"

"I told you that doesn't matter," Hyakkimaru says. She has a home now; so does he. They can write letters, or see one another in neutral territory: he's not going to put Tarou and Akiko at risk. Or Iwasa, for that matter; if Iwasa finds out that one of Daigo's men had attacked him with intent to kill, he'll go on the warpath for sure.

And Konzo can't win a war with Kaga. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

"I'm telling you it does," Daigo says. He sits up in his chair. "Or haven't you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?" he asks. "That I'm Daigo's heir, maybe? Come to kill Dororo and take your empire?" It takes a tremendous effort of will not to roll his eyes. "You're going to have to be more specific."

Daigo grips his knees. "I am talking about rumors of Dororo proposing marriage to you."

Hyakkimaru goes slackjawed and does not speak for several seconds.

Daigo nods. "As expected, you haven't heard that one. Dororo had a birthday party for her coming-of-age ceremony. She talked to almost no one in attendance at that party, except my physician--and your good friend Takeda Iwasa." He spreads his hands. "And now you show up, and spend a lot of uninterrupted time with her. Alone. If she were even a little bit older, it would already be a scandal."

Hyakkimaru blushes from the roots of his hair down to his feet. "You know I would never--"

"--I know," Daigo says. "More to the point, I know Dororo. But look at it from the outside. People talk. I would like nothing more than for you to vanish from my sight forever, but if you did that, Dororo would almost certainly follow you."

Hyakkimaru nods woodenly. He's right. He ran away from Dororo once, and had succeeded because he'd been better at tracking, hunting, running; if he tries the same thing this time, she may be able to keep up--and hunt him down.

"So you see the problem," Daigo says. "We're enjoying an uncommon period of stability. I know you didn't intend to throw a wrench in things, but it's there, and now," Daigo says, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "it's up to me to fix it."

Hyakkimaru's eyes narrow. He generally does not like Daigo's solutions to problems; cf. solving Kaga's famines by sacrificing Hyakkimaru's infant body to demons. "How do you intend to fix it?"

"Since Dororo cares only for her big brother and can't be bothered to think about marriage," Daigo says sarcastically, "I have been thinking that I would remarry myself. Get a new son to inherit this domain."

Hyakkimaru is once again stunned speechless. It's an unusually humane idea, for Daigo: if he marries and gets another male heir, Dororo won't be under nearly as much marriage pressure, and the line of succession will be more clear-cut, better derived: good qualities for ensuring a peaceful transfer of power.

"Who?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"Who?" Daigo looks puzzled.

"Who will you marry?"

Daigo waves his hand. "Oh, that's not settled. I've been weighing candidates for months. This situation has brought matters to a head, so in the best case, I should be able to declare an engagement within two weeks."

Hyakkimaru nods cautiously. "Well, be nice to her, whoever she is."

Daigo raises an eyebrow. "Not going to be here yourself, to pester me on that score?"

"No." By the time two weeks are up, he'll be long gone. "But in return, I need to ask a favor."

Daigo looks intrigued. "I'm listening."


	2. Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daigo gestures for Dororo to sit, but she remains standing. "Tell me what you know. It will help me answer your questions more efficiently."
> 
> Fair enough. She says, "Hyakkimaru's gone missing. Left in a hurry--I saw drag marks and spilled ointment from his wagon in the dyer's district. Kurakawa, Oosuji and I went down to the stables to saddle up and pick up his trail," she goes on, "but all the horses are gone. Where are they?"
> 
> "Oh, that. I sent the horses to Asakura," Daigo informs her with a little shrug.
> 
> "What, all of them?" she asks. "Why?"
> 
> "My bride-to-be is bringing over her trousseau," Daigo says. "You're not too familiar with such things, I take it, but a trousseau for a wealthy lady contains thousands of objects, so I sent every horse we could spare."
> 
> The full import of what Daigo has said sinks in, and she says, "Huh? Did you say 'bride-to-be'?"

Hyakkimaru vanishes in the dead of night in the middle of spring: no explanation, no warning, no note--and of course, no tracks left behind.

That same night, Dororo wakes up in a cold sweat. Her dreams had been restless, half-formed things, but she feels in the pit of her stomach that something has gone terribly wrong. She doesn't remember feeling this way since the fires had popped up all over Kaga, during Takeda's sabotage of her trade routes, but she feels it now, like a stone sinking through her body down to her feet. If she doesn't start moving, she'll be paralyzed by the feeling, so she stands up, stretches, touches her toes and bounces back up again.

She should tell Daigo about this feeling. She's trusted her hunches since she was a little girl, and if anyone knows something about whatever terrible situation is going on, it's probably him. Or--the thought is unfamiliar, but welcome--Hyakkimaru. Waking Daigo would be fun, no doubt about it, but Hyakkimaru is more reliable than he is: more likely to listen, and more likely to help, even if he probably knows less. She decides to go to him first.

She exits her room silently. No one is awake at this hour; even the servants on late shift have gone to bed, and if she avoids the outer walls it's likely she won't run into any guards either. She tiptoes her way around corners, thankful she never lost her cat eyes, and lowers herself over a rail on the second-floor engawa to the ground floor.

She still sees no one, but the perimeter has guards posted every twenty feet. Fortunately, she's learned a lot about the palace's defenses from years of sneaking out to see Biwamaru to perform her treasure exchanges: while individual men are more or less vigilant according to their training and disposition, the men on the front gate are almost always the laziest. That's because they're looking for intruders from outside, not people coming from within. If she moves in the shadows between their torches, she probably won't be caught.

The thought crosses her mind that it doesn't particularly matter if she's caught, not anymore, but she squelches it. It is a matter of her thieving professional pride to be able to sneak past guards in whatever circumstances--and it's useful practice for combat, too. 

Besides, she'd rather not lead the guards to Hyakkimaru's hiding place. He'd probably be unhappy at being forced to move. Again.

Dororo sighs inwardly as she approaches the hall that leads to the main gate. She's aware that Hyakkimaru's homecoming hasn't been all onigiri picnics and shooting practice. He and Daigo have a tentative peace, but some of Daigo's old retainers remember the rumor of an heir with no limbs; others remember encountering Hyakkimaru himself on the walls of the old palace, before he'd gotten his arms and his eyes back. Kurakawa seems to actively hate him. She remembers their conversation from earlier today--of which she is not strictly proud: she hadn't meant to snap at him, but in the years they'd been separated a glob of frustrated anger had been steadily building in her gut, and having him confront the matter of his leaving--again--so matter-of-factly had caused that built-up rage to peek past the surface.

She directs her eyes ahead. Some of the torches are still lit in the hall, so she has to follow a zig-zag pattern to stay in shadow. She knows where to find Hyakkimaru, and she knows he'll forgive her--both for waking him and for her reaction. He's always forgiven her before, though she's not entirely sure she deserves it. Her feelings toward him now are selfish. Having just gotten him back, her primary goal has been to keep him in Enuma as long as possible, and hang any downstream consequences.

She makes it past the gate with no trouble, then steps on rough stones in the dark and has to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. Her feet have gotten soft: too much time wearing boots, too much time indoors. As pain lances from the sole of her foot to her calf, she becomes grateful for her lack of shoes: she's wide-awake now, and for her pain is always a reminder to push herself.

The streets are quiet at this hour. She has no need for stealth, but she stays a little off the beaten path anyway, and checks around herself frequently to assure herself that she's not being followed. She ducks down a back alley near a dyer's stall to the place where Hyakkimaru and Tarou keep their cart.

It's gone.

She blinks, steps forward, and the soles of her feet find wagon ruts, debris, even a little slick from the ointment they'd been carrying. She squints to see better in the dark, almost wishing for a torch, and identifies something like drag marks digging into the earth-and-stone street.

The wagon is definitely gone. Some ointment spilled, so he must have left in a hurry. And the only reason Hyakkimaru would leave in a hurry is--

"Daigo," she spits like a curse. For all that she's grateful to Daigo for giving her a place, there are some things they are absolutely never going to agree on.

She takes a deep breath and thinks about what must have happened. There's no way Daigo himself would come here in the middle of the night to harass Hyakkimaru; that's not his style. Which means that the people she should start with are his spies--especially Kurakawa.

Dororo runs back to the gates of the palace, startling the guards as she whips past them in flash of speed. She spins on her heel toward Daigo's rooms; Kurakawa and Oosuji sleep nearby. She hears two or three men behind her, but she ignores them; they'll only slow her down--and if she wants to catch up to Hyakkimaru, time is of the essence.

She bursts into Kurakawa's room and wake him from a dead sleep. He has a bump on the nape of his neck and a shallow cut that extends from there to his collarbone; he'd probably fought with Hyakkimaru and scared him off somehow. She orders him to wake Oosuji, and then their immediate subordinates: she wants them to muster outside the stable before the sun rises. 

She's going after Hyakkimaru. He doesn't have that much of a head start--with any luck, she can catch him.

She leaves him grumbling at her--but not disobeying--and considers making another stop to yell at Daigo, but decides not to in the interest of time. Instead, she heads down to the stable for her own horse and gear; she's going after him this time personally, whether he wants her to or not.

They've lost too many years already. He's too damned stubborn--or maybe just too damned in general; cursed by his bloodline and reputation. Either way, she doesn't care. She's bringing him back. And when he does come back, she'll keep Daigo's people away from him. Somehow. She'll figure it out.

When she arrives at the stable, all of the horses are gone. She immediately searches all the stalls, including the ones for the scouts' horses...but the scouts' horses are also missing. 

Hyakkimaru and the horses had vanished on the same night. That can't be a coincidence. 

She is about to leave the stable when she runs into Oosuji at the doorway. Sleep is still crusted in her eyes; she looks drained. Ordinarily Dororo would express some concern--she doesn't hate Oosuji nearly as much as she hates Kurakawa right now--but there really isn't time. "What happened to all the horses?" she asks, and tries not to sound as panicked as she feels.

Oosuji yawns hugely. "Daigo-sama had me round them up, along with all the spare wagons."

"What for?"

Oosuji shrugs. "They headed east hours ago," Oosuji says. "Daigo-sama did not tell me why, but I suspect it was for a diplomatic mission. Trade, most likely."

Diplomatic--? "What if we _need_ the horses for something?"

Another shrug. "We can call cavalry from other towns in the surrounding countryside, or rent pack animals from merchants or farmers. I got the sense that Daigo-sama's mission was urgent," she says, eternally loyal to Daigo--to a fault, even. 

Dororo realizes that Oosuji is right. She could probably buy or rent a horse in Enuma, though it would likely be a pack animal; not built for speed. Still better than nothing, and more than adequate for most purposes. The problem is not that there are no horses to be had in Enuma; the problem is that there are no horses _now_ , immediately, in the present moment. 

Every moment that passes increases Hyakkimaru's lead. This setup is too perfect, too complete, too clever: it's something Hyakkimaru would design. What surprises her is that he must have done this with Daigo's help.

If that's true, then he may have left Kaga for an entirely different reason than the one she thinks.

Mind reeling, Dororo assigns Oosuji to horse detail: she's to bring back the fastest horse she can find in town in an hour. Orders given, Dororo stomps back up to the palace to see Daigo in a fit of rage. He's still asleep; it's the crack of dawn and she hasn't slept or eaten and she's getting really sick of people not giving her full explanations or telling her where Hyakkimaru went this time. She takes a deep breath and waits the ten or so minutes it takes to rouse Daigo and make him presentable for her company; but calming measures aren't effective, really.

Hyakkimaru left her again. 

At least last time, he'd offered some kind of explanation, and given her some indication of his mission through Biwamaru. This time--nothing. She feels like she's been left in a trench on a battlefield to fend for herself. And while that feeling isn't strictly new, it's also not a feeling she enjoys.

Daigo does not come out to meet her, but sends a servant to admit her into his private war room. She considers that odd, at first, then reevaluates: his private room and public audience chamber are ringed with guards and servants, but the war room is a bit more remote, and while just as closely guarded, all of the guards there remain outside the room, except for the master assassin and master of spies.

She happens to know that at least one of those are absent from the palace for the moment, rounding up horses in town for her. It seems Daigo wants this meeting to be as private as possible.

She slides open the screen door to the war room, bows automatically for appearances' sake, and smoothly slides the door closed. Daigo sits in the corner of the room near a kotatsu, as yet unlit, with a map of Kaga laid out in front of him on a low table. 

He gestures for Dororo to sit, but she remains standing.

"I see," he says with a little grin. "I know exactly why you're here, but first I'd like to know how much you've learned about the situation."

Learned? "Don't test my patience, old man."

"Don't test mine." His smile vanishes, and his expression is tired. "Tell me what you know. It will help me answer your questions more efficiently."

Fair enough. She lets out a breath that she hadn't even known she was holding, and says, "Hyakkimaru's gone missing. Left in a hurry--I saw drag marks and spilled ointment from his wagon in the dyer's district."

"Clumsy," Daigo mutters.

Yes, it is. Dororo hadn't realized it before, but there's another way for her to look at this perfect setup of evidence left behind and obvious clues and irritating obstacles. 

Hyakkimaru's leaving this time is not a rejection, necessarily, but a challenge. Even if he doesn't want to come back, he actually has given her a lot of help to find him, this time--starting with the direction he'd gone: east.

Just like Daigo's horses. 

"I woke Kurakawa," she says. "He has an impressive bump on his head and a few other surface-level injuries. I suspect he and Hyakkimaru fought. The kid with Hyakkimaru, Tarou, was probably there, and that made Hyakkimaru want to flee." Dororo had considered this in a cursory way before, but now that she's putting the pieces together it makes a lot of sense. If Hyakkimaru had truly feared for his own personal safety, he would have left Kaga weeks ago. Something aside from personal danger to himself must have made him afraid.

"Kurakawa, Oosuji and I went down to the stables to saddle up and pick up his trail," she goes on, "but all the horses are gone. Where are they?"

"Oh, that. I sent the horses to Asakura," Daigo informs her with a little shrug.

"What, all of them?" she asks. "Why?"

"My bride-to-be is bringing over her trousseau," Daigo says. "You're not too familiar with such things, I take it, but a trousseau for a wealthy lady contains thousands of objects, so I sent every horse we could spare."

 _Including mine,_ Dororo thinks resentfully, _and without asking me, too_. Then the full import of what Daigo has said sinks in, and she says, "Huh? Did you say 'bride-to-be'?"

Daigo nods. "I received a reply very late last night. Her name is Asakura Hitomi, oldest daughter of Asakura Toshikage, long considered unmarriageable." He smiles at her. "Only a bit younger than me."

Dororo shakes her head, hoping to clear some of the fog her sleeplessness has caused. "You--Daigo--are going to marry the Asakura clan chief's daughter?"

"Is there a problem?" He looks at her, both dignity and disdain firmly rooted in his expression.

"Uh," she says, because this makes absolutely no sense and this is the first time she's heard anything about this from anyone. "When were you going to tell me this?"

"At breakfast, of course," he says. "But you're impatient."

"I'm not having breakfast," she says. "Not today."

"Oh? Are you not hungry?" 

The question is almost solicitous, which surprises her. Daigo is rarely this polite. Why is he--?

Stalling. That's what he's doing. Somehow, Hyakkimaru had convinced him to stall her so that he could get away.

"I'm starving," she says, "but I need a horse. Oosuji-san is bringing me one, and then I'm leaving. I should be back in a couple of days."

Daigo steeples his fingers. "I don't recall giving you permission to go anywhere."

She puts her forehead between her hands and breathes. "Lock me up," she says, "or let me go. Either way, I'm going. All locking me up will do is give him a few more hours to get away from me."

Daigo lets out a long sigh. "I knew this would happen." He makes a low whistling sound like a bush warbler tree-to-tree call. Kurakawa's head emerges from the hole in the floor made for the kotatsu fire, and his face is coated in soot. He whispers something to Daigo, and Daigo whispers something back, then Kurakawa withdraws beneath the floor again.

"Now I know why you never light the kotatsu," Dororo mutters.

"What was that?"

"...nothing. What was that? What did you need to call Kurakawa for?"

"I didn't send your horse away," Daigo says. "I just sent her to the pastures outside town, where her foal is. Kurakawa's fetching her, and will saddle her and bring her back in--call it twenty minutes."

Dororo is briefly stunned. "Did--you just--do something nice--for me?"

"You're my daughter, aren't you?"

"Um, kind of?" It feels like opposite day. She is far too sleep-deprived to process this situation in real time. She needs tea. And despite her tough talk to Daigo, she could also really use some breakfast.

Daigo waves her off. "Stop by the kitchens before you go. You're dead on your feet."

"Fine." She turns to go.

"Dororo," he says when her back is turned. "I know you have to find Hyakkimaru, and I won't stop you. But you can't bring him back here."

She looks at him over her shoulder. "Why?"

"You know he an Kurakawa fought. That's true, but it's not the whole story. Find him, make your farewells, and come back. Then I'll tell you."

Her eyes narrow. "Promise?"

He snorts. "Would you believe any promise of mine?"

She turns to face him fully. "I think you helped orchestrate this situation. I'm grateful you're making it easy on me," though not as easy as waking her up and giving her her horse outright would have been, "but I know you know something. And I'm never really sure if you're telling the whole truth."

She turns away from him again. "I'll return in a week," she says. "If I don't, send the hounds after me."

Daigo waves her away, and she stumbles down to the kitchen on the first floor with legs made of rubber. Once there, she stuffs her face with one onigiri after another, and packs several more in an empty rice sack for the road, but the food doesn't make her feel better.

Food does, however, clear her head somewhat, at least enough to think about what her next steps should be. Hyakkimaru is heading east. To Asakura, yes, but his only tie to Asakura is Konzo. As soon as she thinks it, she knows exactly where Hyakkimaru is going--and she even thinks she knows how he'll choose to get there.

She polishes off one more onigiri, then races down to the courtyard as fast as her legs will carry her, hauling her small sack of provisions behind her. 

Kurakawa can't get here fast enough.


	3. Flowers on Setting Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I didn't know any better," Sachiko says to Hitomi one day while pondering her next move in shogi, "I'd really think you're going to miss me."
> 
> "Maybe I will," Hitomi says.
> 
> Sachiko snorts through her nose. "I also never pegged you as sentimental."
> 
> "I'm not." 
> 
> "Good," she says, hovering her flying chariot piece over a dragon king uncertainly. "You know he won't love you," Sachiko says as she places the chariot.
> 
> "I won't love him either," Hitomi says, because that's accurate.
> 
> Sachiko frowns at her. "You won't obey your husband?"
> 
> She shrugs. "Would you obey a member of the Daigo clan?"
> 
> Sachiko grins. "No way. I can't believe you're going through with this."
> 
> It's our best shot to kill him, she thinks but doesn't say. This is my only way out of Asakura. In truth, this is probably the only way for her to ever escape from under her father's thumb. 
> 
> Well. She's not actually sure she'll go through with it. Killing Kagemitsu Daigo would make her father happy, but she does not know if it would improve his circumstances. If she is successful, she will be killed. If she is unsuccessful and merely caught, she will be killed--and Asakura will have another war on its hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet the OFC. :)
> 
> Dororo will be returning next time, because a few plot points are about to crash together, in a canon-typical, rather violent way.

Asakura Hitomi prepares her wedding trousseau resignedly, an item at a time fetched from closets and drawers and chests from outside. She folds a kimono here, wraps a set of lacquerware there, and stores strings of beads in ornately carved boxes to keep them from getting tangled on the journey to Enuma. These preparations are a formality, and Hitomi is bored; many of these items had been made for her after her hatachi ceremony when she'd come of age, so she hasn't seen them for the better part of a decade. 

Hitomi is well past thirty now, and had long believed she would never marry. Most of her family considers her plain and ordinary: not an asset to any of the clans in their territory, even the lesser ones. In her younger years, the long wars with the Daigo clan, and the later protracted conflict with Takeda raiders, had shrunk the family's resources as well as its reach. It is only in the last few years that Asakura has had any peace at all, thanks largely to the efforts of the rebel Takeda lord Iwasa, who had defied his own people to stop the raiders. His family mon of four diamonds is surrounded by a circle to differentiate it from the crest of the other Takeda lords. When she'd written her cousin in Konzo to ask about it, she'd received a letter back claiming that the circle represented lord Iwasa's inclusivity, and his desire to protect those within his sphere. 

She had thought that charming, to the point where she'd considered sending Takeda Iwasa a proposal. Having a strong ally with a border on Kaga seemed to her to be a smart political match. But her father had put a stop to that idea, and her sister had agreed with him, not because she was wrong, but because they hadn't considered her a tempting enough prize for Takeda Iwasa.

She is accustomed to being thought of this way: both as a prize for someone from outside to claim, and as worthless within the confines of her own family. When she'd been very young, her mother had done her best to search for a suitable match for her, but after she had died in a plague caused by rancid water, there had been no one left to care about her future. Her sister Sachiko only desires her to get married in an abstract way, so that she can get married herself afterward. And her father, Asakura Toshikage, cares for only one thing.

Revenge on the Daigo clan.

Hitomi had been just eleven years old when a mudslide washed out the main bridge between Asakura and Kaga, drowning hundreds of people in its wake and leaving hundreds more homeless and out of work. Only the skeleton bridge, built some hundred years before the main one, had survived, and even that had been badly damaged; Asakura's trade revenue fell by half that year due to travel difficulties. Kagemitsu Daigo had taken the opportunity to attack in the aftermath of the mudslide, and Hitomi, little Sachiko and her parents had barely escaped the battle with their lives.

Hitomi touches the scar along the right side of her face: long, thin, extending from eyebrow to chin; a man had sliced her face with a dagger, though he'd been going for her throat. After that, there had been weeks of rain out of season, and when the time had come to harvest there'd been little food. Hitomi's infant brother Hajiro had not survived that winter; Hitomi's mother had become too thin to produce breast milk.

And that had only been the beginning of it. Hitomi is old enough to have seen clans rise and fall around her as her own struggles to survive; she is old enough to remember dozens of pitched battles between her father's men and Kagemitsu Daigo's. She understands the foundations of her father's hatred.

But--she pauses while folding a set of handkerchiefs, placing one in a storage box--part of her is grateful to be getting out of Amagi. She has bounced between the cities of Amagi and Haki for her whole life, depending on the threat level to each, and she doesn't much care for either of them. They are small, rundown, impoverished. She glares down at the triple flower pattern embroidered into her trousseau items with a little frown, finding her family's ostentation for ceremony wasteful and foolish. 

As a young girl, she had wanted nothing more than to her help her people. As a scarred woman, she wants nothing except to escape the pit into which she was born.

If she could live to be a hundred, she would never in all those years have believed that escape would come by way of Kagemitsu Daigo himself. The man her father hated; the man she'd only ever seen from the opposite end of a battlefield. Her hand glides up and down her cheek and lingers over her forehead, smiling because she and Daigo are matched in more than one way. 

It had surprised her, but Hitomi's father had agreed to this union without any convincing required--and just one condition.

She lifts a very special item from a chest near her futon: a large, black lacquerware vessel full of perfumed oil. She walks over to her chest of medicines, and selects the appropriate tincture. Then she pours all of it into the vessel, stoppers it closed and shakes it vigorously before packing it away in its chest again.

Through her, Asakura Toshikage will achieve his revenge on Kagemitsu Daigo. It's the price of her freedom, and she is happy to pay it.

After packing for a few more hours, she delegates the rest of the work to her sister and a clutch of servants, and retires to her futon to sleep.

***

It takes a few weeks for Kagemitsu Daigo to send an escort and wagons for Hitomi. During that time, she is frenetically busy: all the lacquerware pieces in her bridal set need the Daigo mon painted on them next to her own, and her wedding kimono also needs updated designs. When she goes to the craftsmen and seamstresses with her items and relays her instructions, most are struck dumb with disbelief, but none dare disobey.

Of course not. Asakura Toshikage is a ruthless man, known to kill men--or women, or children--over any perceived slight. He had not always been that way; Hitomi has fond memories of him teaching her to ride and play shogi before the mudslide. But that had changed with her scar, and with the reversal of fortune the mudslide had brought to their clan.

Sometimes she struggles to remember her father as a man and not a monolith, more symbol than human. Her sister has never known him as anything else. The thought saddens her, so she spends a lot of her remaining days with Sachiko, painting in their library, playing shogi or working on her endless stack of embroidery.

Sachiko regards this sudden change in her behavior with suspicion. "If I didn't know any better," she says one day while pondering her next move in shogi, "I'd really think you're going to miss me."

"Maybe I will."

Sachiko snorts through her nose. "I also never pegged you as sentimental."

"I'm not." Sentimentality is a luxury when your home can be, and has been, snatched away without warning.

"Good," she says, hovering her flying chariot piece over a dragon king uncertainly. "You know he won't love you," Sachiko says as she places the chariot, sticking her tongue out.

"I won't love him either," Hitomi says, because that's accurate.

Sachiko frowns at her. "You won't cherish and obey your husband?"

She shrugs. "Would you obey a member of the Daigo clan?"

Sachiko grins. "No way in hell. I can't believe you're going through with this."

 _It's our best shot to kill him_ , she thinks but doesn't say. _This is my only way out of Amagi_. In truth, this is probably the only way for her to ever escape from under her father's thumb. She had agreed to his condition readily, of course, but...

Well. She's not actually sure she'll do it. Her dreams over the past weeks have been disquieted, and she's had ample time to consider what assassinating Kagemitsu Daigo would truly mean. Everything she knows of the man gives her an impression that he is clever and strong, not to mention possessed of appalling good luck. He probably already knows her for exactly what she is: a perfumed trap.

The consequences of eliminating such a man eclipse her thoughts at odd moments: while embroidering, or combing her sister's hair, or serving her father his evening tea. Killing Kagemitsu Daigo would make her father happy, but she does not know if it would improve his circumstances. If she is successful, she will be killed. If she is unsuccessful and merely caught, she will be killed--and Asakura will have another war on its hands.

On the morning set for her departure, she takes a final meal with her father. She's cooked him his favorites: partridge, egg fried rice, ginseng tea. For all that their relationship has been fraught with pain and misunderstanding, she wants their farewell to be memorable for good reasons. Sachiko also joins them for breakfast and compliments the rice--and cleans up after without being asked, for once.

When the dishes have been cleared away, Hitomi rises from her floor cushion and bows deeply. "Well, father," she says, "I'm off."

"Take care," he replies, nodding his head.

Sachiko echoes him, then says: "Make those bastards pay for what they did to us."

Hitomi nods firmly, because that's the expected response, but she doesn't fully know what she intends to do. She is not as young as Sachiko, or as narrow-minded as her father; it is true that Daigo had attacked first, but Asakura had attacked back, and harder. And recently Kaga has not attacked anyone. She feels like she is lacking information somewhere, and that once she gets it she'll know exactly what to do.

So she puts on her warashi for traveling, bows once again, and finds her way into the wedding supplies, looking for her special vessel. She picks it up, and, making an excuse to the servants about taking one last walk around, she heads in the direction of the forest glade just outside the estate, clutching it in front of her like a prayer urn.

She goes a little way into the woods, digs a small hole, and buries the poison. She's made her decision: she won't be killing Kagemitsu Daigo after all--at least, not immediately. Being set free, getting out of her father's reach, on her way to a new and terrifying life, she feels the stirrings of potential within herself.

And after all, Daigo is clever. If he discovered the poison within her possessions before the wedding, she would certainly be executed. Besides, that particular concoction is lethal even in small doses: a distilled tincture of wisteria seed and mamushi venom. Even if she succeeded, she might die herself, administering it to him. Her father would undoubtedly tell her that such stakes were worth it, but regardless of the outcome of any of these schemes, she will probably never see him again.

Ironically, she is now in the situation she always wanted to be in as a child. For the first time ever, she has a chance--however slim--of doing something to secure peace and prosperity for her people. And that's more important than family pride.

Her mother would have forgiven her.

She's not sure anyone else will.

***

She's on her way back to the wagons when her father's personal guard, Toshigawa Setsuka, intercepts her path. He nods to her empty hands in accusation, and she blushes.

Her father had sent someone to follow her. She hadn't expected it, but she should have. "Toshigawa-san," she says.

"Hitomi-sama. May I ask what you have done with your...wedding gift for Daigo-sama?" he asks, phrasing each euphemistic word carefully.

"I have secured additional gifts. Less ostentatious, but more useful. I have arranged to have them shipped to Kaga."

He understands her message clearly enough, by his expression. _I'm going to Kaga. Don't try to stop me. I'll stop Daigo my own way--and it may not be my father's way._

"Forgive me, but I will need you to retrieve that gift," he says, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

She does as she is bidden, but the wheels in her head start turning. Her role in life has always been set for her. Perhaps she was foolish to think she could ever escape it. But--she clutches the unearthed vessel of poison to her chest, soiling her new traveling kimono--she also knows she isn't out of options yet.

The horses at the front of her wagon have grown impatient with waiting: they snort, stamp, kick up dust. She's impatient herself. She wants to leave, but Daigo's escort has not arrived. She sends her wedding trousseau goods along with a contingent of her father's men as guards, and settles down in her wagon to wait.

By early afternoon, Toshigawa has run completely out of patience. "Your escort was probably detained or killed on the road, Hitomi-sama," he says. "If we want to make it to Kaga in time to prepare for the appointed day, we must leave soon."

She nods. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise her if Daigo had decided not to send any guards for her at all. They may be getting married, but just doing that won't make their clan relations friendly. It's equally likely that Daigo had sent his guards, and her father's scouts had killed them.

So her wagon sets off--just her, Toshigawa and his sister Kumiko to serve as her maid--on the main road out of Amagi toward Konzo.

As the wagon passes under the leaves of the wide-spreading bamboo thickets, obscuring her view of much of the road, she finds herself wishing for more protection. She reminds herself that many of the goods had been sent ahead, with an armed escort, to prevent her from being more of a target. Toshigawa is more than capable as a guard, and Kumiko is proficient with both bow and spear. Hitomi herself has her throwing knives sheathed, but close to hand. Unless they're outnumbered five to one, they will probably reach Konzo in one piece.  
  
They travel for most of the day until nightfall, and make camp on a flat rocky ledge near a natural hot spring. Water has eroded the stone in places, turning part of the path and the ground of their campsite to limestone gravel. Bamboo and ferns spread lushly in all directions, giving the place the feel of a tropical oasis.

Hitomi decides to take a dip in the hot spring before going to bed. Kumiko joins her briefly, though they don't speak--her brother must have told her about Hitomi's attempt to throw away the poison meant for Daigo, because Kumiko, usually cheerful, regards her with a sort of sullen silence usually reserved for Sachiko when she's been cruel to the hunting dogs. 

When Kumiko leaves, Hitomi dunks her head fully under the water and stays there until her face feels like it's on fire. She surfaces, gasps, hugs herself. She is glad to be clean and glad to be alone, but she also feels suffocated. The only path forward that she sees leads to her inevitable death. She spends minutes that feel like hours trying to puzzle her way out of this--could she run? Hide? Wait until they got to Konzo and--

Well, the ideas don't come, even after her hands go wrinkled and pruny. She leaves the hot spring dizzy and dehydrated, and uses her hands to support herself against the cave wall of the spring until she finds the entrance, dresses sloppily and steps into the cool air outside.

She's about halfway back to camp when she hears voices, carried to her by the wind. "...you cannot know what she intended," Kumiko says. Her tone is flippant, easy.

"I do know it," Toshigawa says. "She does not intend to kill Daigo. We need another plan."

Kumiko makes a high-pitched whine that echoes in the air. "Like what?"

"Like..." A pause. Hitomi holds her breath and stops walking. "Like, say we kill her, and put you in her place. I know I can count on you, and it would be better for everyone, and..." he trails off, clearly not entirely comfortable with what he is saying, though that's cold comfort to Hitomi at the moment.

"Our orders are to see Daigo dead at any cost," Kumiko says softly.

"Yes," Toshigawa replies hollowly.

Hitomi wants to run away from hearing all of this and forget it ever happened, but she is rooted to the spot: it feels like she can't move. She lets out the breath she's been holding in a wild rush and takes a single step forward--

\--and slips on gravel, falling flat on her face and rolling in the direction of the campsite. Her sleeping yukata comes undone as she falls, and she hears the sound of fabric ripping as she pitches forward into underbrush.

The noise draws both Toshigawa and Kumiko. 

"This is convenient," Toshigawa says when he reaches her. "The ledge is slippery here." He glances up at Kumiko. "She could just...fall."

Hitomi stands up and draws one of her knives. Her yukata is still partly open but she doesn't care; modesty won't save her life. She makes a brief abortive attempt at stabbing Toshigawa that he dodges easily; he shoves her backward, toward Kumiko, and the two of them lunge for her at the same time. Kumiko wrestles her arms behind her, disarming her in the process, and Toshigawa holds her own knife to her throat. "I have a better idea than falling," Toshigawa says. "Kumiko, fetch me the black urn next to the fire."

Kumiko complies, Toshigawa accepts it one hand while keeping the knife trained on Hitomi. After Kumiko secures her arms once more, Toshigawa opens the urn carefully and places it directly under Hitomi's nose, being careful to lean back and away from it himself.

Hitomi closes her eyes and tries not to breathe. She's going to be killed by the thing that was supposed to save her.

Her mother's face flits across her memory, hazy, like a half-remembered dream.

She opens her eyes and stares Toshigawa straight in the face. And she inhales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cultural terms may need explaining...
> 
> *mon: similar to a family crest or coat of arms. All samurai families of sufficient rank had them, and modifying them (as Iwasa has chosen to) was fairly common practice at the time.
> 
> *flying chariot and dragon king: these are stronger pieces in shogi, roughly equivalent to knights and rooks in chess (a dragon king is a promoted rook, and can move as either a king or a rook).
> 
> *wisteria: is actually seriously lethal. Do not eat the flowers, kids.


	4. Pursuit

Dororo travels away from Enuma for the better part of two days, alone. Both Kawakura and Oosuji had offered (or threatened) to come with her, and Oosuji had tailed her for at least a few hours, but she's fairly certain neither one are following her by the afternoon of the second day. 

Daigo is getting married, after all. Lots of people are probably coming in from all over for the event, so Daigo will need all of his available loyal guards and spies on hand. _He could probably use his heir, too_ , Dororo thinks to herself, but she suppresses the thought. She's been dutiful too long; she's become used to taking behavior cues from Daigo. The thought makes her uncomfortable, not because it's untrue, but because she hadn't intended things to turn out this way.

Her original intention had been to work with Daigo, not to become dependent on him. Since the death of her parents, she's not supposed to be dependent on anyone. And yet, here she sits, on a mare named after her mother in armor Kaname had bought for her last birthday celebration, carrying supplies that Hiroko had packed for her. She almost feels ashamed. And, underneath that, the pleasant sensation of being cared for. Daigo may not care for her personally, but he is the one that made all this possible.

As if to contradict the current reality, flashes of her more self-reliant personality flit across her memory: teaching Hyakkimaru to cook fish, throwing rocks at demons, escaping enemy camps. While it's nice to be liked, she knows she can still take care of herself.

It's been a long time since she had a real adventure.

The trail of Hyakkimaru's wagon is fresh on the first day, easily visible even among the Enuma's merchant traffic; the ruts the wheels make are uniformly spaced and tend to level out the ground, which makes for easy riding. She follows it all afternoon and into evening until her horse begins to make noises of complaint; then she dismounts and walks a little more before making camp. 

She should be faster than them. Ojiya is a fast horse, and one person on horseback is always going to be quicker than two people and a cart. If she gets an early start, and the trail stays fresh, she'll catch them tomorrow. Cheered by this thought, she sleeps well. 

On the second day she wakes up to the sound of rain. The wagon tracks get wiped away in muddy foot traffic; and Dororo is eventually compelled to dismount and walk, shivering in light armor made too heavy by the chilly wetness. Next her her, Ojiya seems just as miserable, kicking up mud with every sludgy step forward. The sky is overcast, no sun, but the burn in her legs and the unsteadiness of her gait eventually communicate to her that she's been walking for too many hours without a break. She collapses, feeds her horse, feeds herself on bland onigiri and fresh water, not daring to stop for a hot meal and not wanting to go any further. She should have caught them by now.

She forces herself into motion again after a few minutes of rest. The sky clears as she walks, bringing the sun back, and some of the wagon tracks become clearer as well. "Finally," she mutters to Ojiya. "Some luck."

Ojiya stares at her and does not dignify Dororo's hope with any other response.

She's been running relentlessly for days on the wagon's trail. If she doesn't catch him soon, he's superhuman.

Which he is. She remembers that. But she's kept up with him before, and she hadn't even had a horse then.

A fat raindrop hits her on the nose. She glares at the sky. Hyakkimaru must control the weather or something. She mounts up again and comes to a three-way branching of the road. Two wagon trails diverge there, both quite similar, but one makes deeper marks, indicating heavier weight. This is a crossroads; it looks like a wagon resupplied here recently. Which means the wagon with the lighter trail is probably Hyakkimaru's. He'd sold a lot of ointment in and around Enuma. 

She follows the lighter trail a little ways, and comes to a sheltered campsite beneath some trees. Two hooded travelers, a boy and a man, wear blankets over their shoulders and have gotten a fire going. The man hails her and offers her a place. She accepts gratefully and dismounts, finding a good, dry-ish place to tie up Ojiya and remove her harness and tack. As she settles next to the fire, she realizes the boy is familiar.

"Tarou?" she asks without thinking. Her eyes flit to the man, hoping against hope--

But it's not Hyakkimaru. It's Takeda Iwasa. "You," she says in a tone of profound disappointment.

"Me," Iwasa says with a laugh and a nod. "Sorry, Dororo-san," Iwasa continues, "but I'm not the man you're looking for."

"What?" She really should have seen this coming. She knows Hyakkimaru, after all: his habits, his ways of hiding. She had assumed his destination to be Konzo because she hadn't been aware he had anywhere else to go. 

She hadn't even thought to ask him about other places where he'd been. Some friend she is.

"Tell me where he is," she says, low and quiet.

"Uh, about that," Iwasa says. "He asked me not to."

"Well, I'm asking you to. And I outrank him."

"Um, socially maybe, but...when was the last time you saw him decapitate someone?"

"Uh..." It's been a while, but yes. Yes, she has seen that. 

"Did he threaten to decapitate you if you told me where he was?"

"Not in so many words, no," Iwasa answers, "but he has a way of making things--unpleasant, when he wants them to be."

"I see." Dororo puts her chin in her hands. "I could also make things very unpleasant for you. I could choke off trade with Konzo from Enuma for a week or six. Or conscript the merchant guards and men who patrol the highway for road work or construction. Things like that."

Iwasa's eyes widen. "He told me you wanted to find him, but I didn't realize it was that bad." A pause. "What happened with you two?"

"Hyakkimaru was going to kill Dororo," Tarou says. "It's what everyone at the castle was saying."

Dororo hmphs. "I'd like to see him try. That's just a rumor. We didn't fight." Not in any way that would put either of their lives in danger, anyway. And can it really be called a "fight" if it's not at least a little dangerous?

"I heard a different rumor," Iwasa says. "Talk on the road is that you're getting married to Daigo's bastard."

Her jaw actually drops. Married. To Hyakkimaru. The thought is alien, and she rejects it automatically. "It's _Daigo_ who's getting married, not me."

Iwasa nods. "Yeah, I figured that Daigo getting married got jumbled up with you two running off alone and created a rumor like that. I don't believe it," he's quick to add. "I usually believe Hyakkimaru, and he had pretty much the same reaction you did. But it's a dangerous rumor. I hate to say it, but even if you were so inclined, you probably shouldn't marry the guy."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I'm just sayin'," Iwasa says, putting both hands up in a defensive gesture. "Unless you want to die young and leave a good-looking corpse, I don't see a lot of advantages in a match like that. Not for you, anyway."

Dororo considers for a moment. Iwasa is right, of course. The only advantage she could see for marrying Hyakkimaru is that he wouldn't legally be allowed to ditch her anymore. 

Which would actually be a useful advantage, at the moment. Then she checks herself. Hyakkimaru, married or not, will always go where he damn well pleases--and so will she. So Iwasa is completely right. 

"Well, I'm not getting married for a while, anyway," she says, and as she says it she realizes that Daigo is probably going to pick that for her, too. She'll probably get a say--but she will also likely not get much of a choice. Her stomach clenches, and she reaches for her waterskin.

"We've got sake," Iwasa says, taking out a decanter and small bowl to share with her. She thanks him and lets the sake and the fire warm her while she considers what to do next. "I need to keep following the trail," she mutters. "Backtrack. Must have abandoned the wagon with you two, and took a horse. If I can--"

"Why don't you come back to Konzo with us instead?" Iwasa says. "I can't tell you where he went, but I will tell you he'll come back to Konzo before he comes back to Enuma. And it's less than a week's ride from here, even in this rotten weather."

She looks at him suspiciously. "Why would you offer something like that?"

Iwasa sighs. "Hyakkimaru seemed to think you wouldn't go back to Enuma without him. That being the case, he asked me to put you up. Until he got back."

"And you still won't tell me where he is," she says, and it's not a question, but it comes out sounding a little like a whine.

"I'm telling you, those Takeda rebels he decapitated--have you ever seen him take out three at once? He must have been really angry that day..."

And that's that. Hyakkimaru had successfully intimidated Iwasa into silence. "Just tell me one thing," Dororo says.

"If I can," Iwasa answers.

"Is Konzo closer or father to Hyakkimaru than here?"

"Considerably closer. A few days closer, at least."

She sighs, then rubs her hands together over the fire. "I'm in. Take me to Konzo."

***

Hitomi inhales because she knows the poison isn't dangerous unless she touches it--something Toshigawa can't be sure of. Sure enough, he hesitates for a second that seems to stretch, and in that second, an arrow passes over her left shoulder and into Toshigawa's shoulder, near the join of his neck and collarbone.

He howls; blood sprays on her face and he nearly drops the jug. Unthinkingly, she leans forward to support the poison vessel before it falls and catches a glimpse of movement, a blur of speed just behind her. She turns, disoriented, and Toshigawa flails, pitching the jar at the blur of movement.

The poison jar shatters. Hitomi rolls, sidesteps and avoids the fine spray of powder, but Toshigawa is not so fortunate: his entire face is coated in ashen gray powder. As she watches, his eyes turn yellow, then white. He struggles to breathe, and lies still.

When she looks to Kumiko, she finds that the woman has fled.

Against all odds, she's been rescued.

She looks up at her rescuer and all the blood drains from her face. It's a young man, between twenty and twenty-five, slight but tall, carrying two swords, both drawn--and there is a light splash of poisonous powder on his face.

He hasn't reacted to that, however. Instead, he sheathes one sword and offers a hand to help her up. "Are you all right?" he asks. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't worry about me," she says. "I can't believe you aren't dead." Even touching that poison with a finger would seriously sicken most grown men, and his face is spattered with it. He inhales deeply through his nose, and coughs a little. "Wisteria," he mutters. "Some kind of venom." And then his legs go out from under him. He drops his sword as he falls, splayed on his stomach.

"Are you a medicine man?"

He shakes his head. "I'm your escort. Kagemitsu Daigo sent me." He gasps and tries to get his arms under him, but he fails. "I need water," he says with his face to the ground. "Curry leaves. White clay."

She nods hesitantly and says, "I have curry leaves. I'll bring them. And water."

He nods, then manages to crawl a few feet forward. By the time she returns with curry leaves, he's managed to prop himself up against a tree. He's sweating profusely, face red, eyes bulging, poison still seeping into his skin. He gulps down all the water she'd brought in one long draw, and the swelling around his eyes recedes somewhat. 

Hitomi takes a damp cloth and cleans his face. He jerks away from her awkwardly and makes a grab for the cloth, but his arms don't obey him; all his limb movements are jerky and uncoordinated. "The venom is a nerve agent," he says with his eyes closed. "Terrific." 

Hitomi tosses the soiled cloth away, unwilling to touch the wrong side of it and poison herself. She frowns. "For someone who isn't a medicine man, you know a lot about poisons."

"My father was a doctor." He looks at her, brown eyes serious and intense. "Listen, you need to move. I saw three on the way in, but there could be more. It's not safe here."

She offers him a bitter smile. "You really are my escort, huh?"

He shrugs. "I promised I'd get you to the Kaga border. You'd stand a better chance with me, but right now I can't help you. You need to run. I have allies, friends a little ways ahead. If you can get to them, they'll protect you."

"I'm not abandoning you."

"Yes, you are," the man says. "If you want to live, you'll--"

"You insufferable, cowardly, idiotic, boot-licking bastard!" The voice comes out of the trees ahead of them, each word articulated distinctly, for effect. A girl's, or perhaps a young woman's voice. "You up and fucking left me again. And why? Because _Daigo_ said so! Unbelievable." The woman emerges from the trees, a sword at her side and a bow strapped to her back. Her hair is long and half-loose, and it looks like she's been running.

Hitomi's escort nods at the woman weakly; clearly, they know one another, but it is not yet clear if they are allies. "Were you her escort, too?" Hitomi asks.

"No," he says with a bitter grin. "Should have known she'd find me, though." He directs his attention to the young woman. "Dororo. Get my pack for me, will you? It's in the trees, about a quarter mile back in the direction where you came from."

"Get it yourself, you lazy shit! I had to go all the way to Konzo and backtrack hours to find you! My horse lost a shoe, I got attacked by bandits--"

"--incompetent ones, clearly--"

"Yeah. Like they'd ever be any match for me." Briefly, she halts in her diatribe and preens in her own sense of competence. Then her anger snaps back on: "Don't flatter me, asshole," she says. "You owe me an explanation!"

"Dororo," he says. His voice is quiet, measured, calm. "Yell at me later."

"You--" She spits. Then she finally takes a closer look at him: at the blood he's covered in (not his, but still), and she realizes that he hasn't moved. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know," he says. "I've been poisoned."

Dororo hops from foot to foot, chewing her lower lip. "I'll get your pack." And she takes off running.

Hitomi's escort closes his eyes and breathes deeply. "Thank you."

"Friend of yours?" Hitomi asks him as Dororo's back recedes.

"Something like that," he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're bummed that you didn't get to see Dororo fighting bandits, don't be. The next chapter backtracks a little bit...I just wanted to keep the plot moving while one of Our Heroes is comatose.


	5. Hunter, Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dororo hears a twig snap, close, and decides that she's out of time.
> 
> She turns, swinging her sword in a wide arc while bringing up both legs for powerful kicks outward. By sheer dumb luck, one bandit falls directly in the path of her sword, and she slits him from navel to shoulder, deep enough for blood to spurt past his uwagi and onto her face. The other man is briefly stunned, and Dororo uses the time from that to trip him, free her weapon, and point the sword at his throat.
> 
> "Are there more of you?" she asks.
> 
> "Not near," he says. "Two more. By the river. But--buddha's breath, you're a girl!"
> 
> Dororo raises an eyebrow. "I'm a woman, moron. Does that matter?"
> 
> "Weren't after you," he mutters. "You got the Daigo crest on ya. Daigo's bastard brat is out here, and there's a reward on for him."
> 
> Dororo raises her sword from the man's neck ever so slightly. "How much?"
> 
> "A hundred pieces of gold."
> 
> Dororo snorts. "Sounds too cheap to me." She puts a little pressure on her sword, and the man's throat gushes blood, and she is safe.
> 
> ***
> 
> Or, the one with a lot of mortal peril.

Konzo is not what Dororo had expected. 

Her city's largest trading partner is perhaps half the size of Enuma, surrounded by a high wall of curve-formed bamboo wood. Pikes line a ditch with a stockade surrounding the wall, and four choke points, easy to seal off at a moment's notice, serve as chinks in what is essentially an armored hill. She whistles impressively when she sees it come into view, and Iwasa grins.

"I take it you've never been here before," he says.

"No," she answers, "but it looks like the kind of place he'd design."

Iwasa snorts. "The wall was already here, but the spikes were his idea. C'mon. I'm hungry."

"Me too," Tarou agrees. "Starving."

Although it's the middle of the day when they arrive, there are few people in the street. A persistent low cold mist makes her clothes stick to her skin, and she shivers. She doesn't blame anyone for staying inside.

Iwasa guides her horse in under a low thatched roof that is attached to a multi-story building. That's a rare enough sight around here, and while Dororo would call the space he leads her into a barn rather than a proper stable, she's glad that Ojiya can be well-fed and warm at least.

She unsaddles and brushes down her horse. Iwasa goes on ahead to the house, leaving Tarou with her, unloading his mule and picking dirt and loose stones out of the poor animal's cracked feet. They work next to each other; Tarou finishes his task before she does and brings water and hay for the horse and mule.

She thanks Tarou, and he begins brushing down the mule with her proferred comb. "This is nice," he says as the mule's muscles twitch under the stimulation. "I think she likes it."

Dororo guesses they don't brush their horses down much around here. Then she checks her privilege; mules are rare enough beasts in the countryside these days, never mind warhorses. "You can keep that," she says to Tarou, nodding to the comb.

His eyes widen. "Really? Are you sure?"

She has a backup comb in her pack; not as good, but perfectly serviceable. "Yes," she says. "It seems to make your animal happy."

Tarou's face cracks into a slight smile. "You really are a kind person, Dororo-san."

No, not really. But apparently guilt still works as a motivator. She remembers the lecture she'd given the little dog she'd denied fish to, on the day she met Hyakkimaru. _No, no. Don't you see? You have to live on your own now_. How cruel she'd been. How cruel the world is.

Her horse seen to, Dororo goes upstairs to find Iwasa and a hot meal, Tarou trailing her by a few dozen yards. She climbs up the engawa and knocks on the doorframe. The door slides open, and Dororo is greeted by an unfamiliar woman. When Dororo says who she is, the woman immediately bows and guides her to Iwasa.

He's sitting in the kitchen at a low long table lined with cushions on two sides. A woman perhaps ten years older than Dororo, tall and too thin, with an expression of rigid calm that seems pasted permanently on, sits across from him. She has her chopsticks in one hand and a document on parchment in the other. She nibbles while she reads, clearly paying more attention to her work than the food. Aside from her, there are two other men in the room, armed with swords and light flexible armor; perhaps they're guards.

Dororo bows slightly, remembering her manners, and Iwasa invites Dororo to sit. She does, and Tarou scampers in behind her and immediately takes the cushion nearest Iwasa. Dororo sits across from him next to the woman, who doesn't acknowledge the presence of any of them.

She opens her mouth to request some rice of her own, and one of the armed men gets up, goes to an alcove in the back of the kitchen that she hadn't seen before, and brings her a portion of rice and fish. She thanks him, stumbling over her words a little, and says, "I thought you were a guard."

Iwasa snorts. "My cousin, actually," he says, "but a traitor in the last rebellion, so consigned to kitchen duty." When Dororo's eyes widen in surprise, Iwasa waves his hand dismissively and says, "You're perfectly safe. Your brother brought this lot in a month or so ago. Fine workers, and I'd vouch for every one of them in this house."

Dororo nods uncertainly, and the man who had brought her food visibly relaxes. "Thank you, Takeda-sama," the guard says quietly.

Iwasa is not completely untrustworthy, but Dororo doesn't know him well enough to gauge where his honesty ends. She decides to probe a little deeper. "So you say they're on kitchen duty," she says after taking a few bites of rice. It's well seasoned, and fried with good-quality oil: delicious, almost decadent. "Did you cook this?" she asks, turning to the man who had brought her the meal.

He reddens and frowns. "No, Dororo Daigo-sama. I lack the skill."

"Oh." Briefly, she is stunned at being called by her adoptive family name. Inside Daigo's castle she is usually 'Dororo-sama,' which is a compromise she can live with; but of course the world outside doesn't know her complex family history, and referring to someone by their family name is generally considered more distant and polite. 

She recovers: she'd asked a question, and she wants an answer...and a recipe. "If not you, then..." Her eyes drift toward the woman at the head of the table. Her eyes are still poring over the document in front of her.

"I can't cook," the woman says without looking up from the parchment.

Dororo shifts her gaze to Iwasa. "How did you know I was about to ask that?"

"Everyone does," she says with a sigh. "Forgive me, guest, but these numbers aren't making sense to me."

"No problem, miss--" She realizes she doesn't know the woman's name.

Iwasa chuckles. "This paragon of manners and good taste is Takeshitsu Kaguya. Her father was the village headman, but he died in a fire a few years back. So now she's in charge."

"Damn right," Kaguya mutters. "Can't wait for the other one to get back."

"Ow, that's cold," Iwasa says, offering Dororo what appears to be a genuine smile. "Story of my life, though. Your brother's magnetic. Everyone either loves him or hates him. But, uh, I just got the 'everyone hates me' part."

"You have your uses," Kaguya says airily, taking a small bite from her rice bowl.

Dororo thinks for a moment, eliminating other candidates in the room before venturing, "So you cooked this, Iwasa-san?" 

Iwasa stiffens. "Yeah. Why?"

"It's really good. I want the recipe."

Iwasa actually blushes. Tarou grins from ear to ear. Dororo finishes her meal and has only the slightest inkling of the shift in domestic power she has caused.

***

After dinner, Dororo pulls Iwasa aside to talk about Hyakkimaru. "I know you can't tell me where he went," she says, "but maybe you can tell me why. He didn't say I couldn't know that, did he?"

Iwasa hms. "Interesting question. He didn't, as a matter of fact. He probably thought that even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me. Hell, I hardly believe it myself."

"What?"

"A lot of it, you've probably guessed," he says. "Hyakkimaru was threatened by one of Daigo's goons--Kura-something-or-other-san, I forget the name. Anyway, he sent me a letter telling me he was coming back with Tarou. We met up when we were supposed to, but he'd changed his plans. Wanted Tarou safe with me while he took care of something important. Took Akiko and an old blind man with, for all the good they'll do him--"

An old blind man? "That old man, did he carry a lute?"

"He did, as a matter of fact. How did you know?"

Great. Biwamaru is mixed up in this too, then. "Who's Akiko?"

"A girl about your age, but she's been training to be an assassin for two years. She's not bad in a fight, but I'm surprised he'd risk putting her in danger. She and Tarou are like siblings."

Dororo nods thoughtfully. Iwasa has been unusually forthcoming--probably because she hasn't asked where Hyakkimaru went yet. She thinks for a moment: Iwasa had mentioned meeting up with Hyakkimaru, so that must have been at or near the crossroads where she'd met Iwasa and the two wagon tracks diverged. Since she and Iwasa had gone east, that means Hyakkimaru had gone--

"West," she says in a voice barely above a whisper. "To Asakura territory. He must have gone there."

"Logistical brilliance must run in the family," he says. "So now you know. I can also tell you that he was planning to come back and give you a proper farewell in a few weeks, which is another reason I asked you to come with me. Having Daigo's heir chasing after ghosts in enemy territory seems--unwise, yeah?"

"I'm going back to the crossroads," Dororo says. "First thing tomorrow morning."

"Can't I change your mind?" Iwasa says. "If you find him now, he might fail."

"Fail at what?"

"At bringing in Daigo's bride. That's why he left. Daigo had reports that one of the women he'd approached for courtship was plotting his death instead, so Hyakkimaru went to intercept them. The last message I got from him is that the bride is innocent, and that it's her family that's the trouble."

"You're telling me Hyakkimaru went to get Daigo's bride." She does remember Daigo telling her something about getting married, but she'd been so preoccupied with Hyakkimaru's disappearance at the time that she doesn't remember any of the details.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"At least two reasons, that I can think of. First is that it would get him out of Enuma. He probably didn't tell you, but there weren't just threats on his life--there were threats on _yours_. He knew what you'd say, but he just couldn't stay. I really do think he's sorry about that."

Dororo mutters something derogatory about assassins, then something about Hyakkimaru being a coward.

"...I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Iwasa says neutrally. "Second, because this mission would take him to a place where he's hard to reach--safer for him--while bringing back something that would help consolidate Daigo's power. Effectively, he's painting himself as Daigo's ally. If he succeeds, it will be much harder for people to make the claim that he intends you or Daigo any harm. But," Iwasa sighs, "I think that ship's already sailed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the optics of Hyakkimaru in Enuma aren't great. He was abandoned there. He burned the palace down. He killed the previous heir, his brother. A lot of people will remember that for a long time. You and I might know him as a good man, but ask around and I think you'll find your city thinks he's a villain."

Dororo closes her eyes and presses her fingers to her temples. "I can only solve one problem at a time, Iwasa-san."

***

She sleeps in a guest room on a comfortable futon, and wakes up early to a breakfast of cold tea rice and hot tea. Iwasa tries to goad her into conversation, but she really doesn't want to stay. She polishes off breakfast quickly, stands up, and finds Iwasa directly in front of her, blocking her from leaving.

"If you do not get out of my way I will break your nose. For starters."

Iwasa grins. "I believe you. But I'm not trying to slow you down. Tarou's saddling up your horse. We added some supplies to your pack."

"Why would you do all that?"

"We're allies," Iwasa says. "Hyakkimaru and I are friends. I need to stay here because there's technically still a war on with Asakura, but if I could leave, I'd be riding with you." 

Dororo nods thoughtfully. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

He looks at the floor for a moment. "There's something else you should know. We've been in contact through messengers since this whole mess started, but I haven't heard anything from him in almost three days. He was supposed to send a message last night. I think something may have happened."

Dororo nods uncertainly. "I'll be careful."

Iwasa claps her on the shoulder, hard. "Good. Then go get him, Dororo-san. And if you could make up some convincing lie about cat-burgling your way out of here, I'd appreciate it."

Dororo has never lied to Hyakkimaru before, but she considers the possibility that she might this time when she goes down to the barn and sees her horse and weapons are ready. It seems she's not the only one upset at being left in the lurch by Hyakkimaru. 

She's out of town a little before sunrise. The day is clear and dry, though the ground is still wet in places from yesterday's rain. Still, traveling is fairly easy, and the wet ground preserves the tracks of Hyakkimaru's party better than she'd anticipated: two people on foot with one horse, traveling fairly fast. The marks of Biwamaru's cane provide the surest confirmation that she's on the right track, but the direction encourages her, too. If she keeps going this way at this rate, she'll be in Asakura territory in half a day.

"Less than a day ahead," she mutters to herself.

That's good news, but it doesn't completely make sense. Hyakkimaru is clearly in a hurry. If she's nearly caught up already, he must have been delayed by something.

Dororo chooses to mount up and go in the direction her gut tells her to, even though it means losing sight of the tracks a little. She passes under trees and over little brooks that lead to the main tributary of the Kamigawa river. She pauses at one of these fords when Ojiya stiffens underneath her like she's about to panic.

"What is it, girl?" Dororo whispers.

And an arrow whizzes past her ear. Two seconds later, another arrow goes through the gap in her horse's legs. Another, third shot lands a barb directly into her left shoulder.

Ambush.

Dororo rolls off of Ojiya in a smooth motion, picking up her pack and securing it to her good shoulder as she moves. Then she slaps Ojiya's rear hard: her command to run to a safe distance and wait. Ojiya wastes no time running, and Dororo unsheathes one of her swords from her back and looks around for her attackers.

The arrow in her arm hurts, but the pain recedes to a pinprick as she concentrates and focuses on possibilities. Maybe Hyakkimaru had been attacked by these people. Maybe he's closer than she thinks. Or maybe she's just unlucky, and this is another obstacle between her and finding him.

She presses her back into a tree and waits, quiet, for the archers to make their next move. For a long time, she hears or sees no change; almost as if a stray arrow from a hunter found her as an unlucky mark. Of course, she doesn't trust that as an explanation, and she decides to wait a little longer to lure her attackers out from hiding.

"Damn that brat." A man's voice, unfamiliar, speaking in an equally unfamiliar dialect. "Where'd he go?"

They think Dororo is male, probably based on her weaponry. So much the better--though they've already underestimated her, in any case. But the man sounds too far away still, so she remains under cover and waits.

"No one just vanishes into thin air," another man complains.

"This bounty ain't worth it."

Bounty? On Dororo? Based on the fact that they think she's male, this is definitely a case of mistaken identity, but she doubts she'll be able to convince them of this. There are at least two of them. She decides to keep waiting, to determine if there are more than two.

Then she hears a twig snap, close, and decides that she's out of time.

She turns, swinging her sword in a wide arc while bringing up both legs for powerful kicks outward. She still doesn't know exactly where her enemies are, but she's determined to keep some space between them while she determines the lay of the land.

By sheer dumb luck, one falls directly in the path of her sword, and she slits him from navel to shoulder, deep enough for blood to spurt past his uwagi and onto her face. The other man is briefly stunned, and Dororo uses the time from that to trip him, free her weapon, and point the sword at his throat.

Her injured arm hurts extravagantly in that position, but there's nothing she can do about that at the moment.

"Are there more of you?" she asks the man.

"Not near," he says. "Two more. By the river. But--buddha's breath, you're a girl!"

Dororo raises an eyebrow. "I'm a woman, moron. Does that matter?"

"Weren't after you," he mutters. "You got the Daigo crest on ya, that's what we saw. Daigo's bastard brat is out here somewhere, and there's a reward on for him."

Dororo raises her swordpoint from the man's neck ever so slightly. "How much?"

"A hundred pieces of gold."

Dororo snorts. "Sounds too cheap to me." Then she puts a little pressure on her sword, and the man's throat gushes blood, and she is safe.

She finds Ojiya about half a mile downstream, watering herself at a brook. She inspects her horse's gear and finds it mostly intact and entirely present, but the left front shoe is missing. Despite this, Ojiya's hoof is not too terribly damaged, but it will take weeks or even months before a proper shoe will take to it again. Damn it. That means she'll have to follow the trail on foot.

But first, she should probably treat her own arrow wound. She ties up Ojiya--one-handed, which is far more irritating than she thought it would be--and probes the spot where the arrow went in. The pain is still sharp, but she's lucky; the arrow had gone through the meat of her shoulder and straight out to the other side without impacting bone or her lungs.

Slowly, so slowly, she reaches for the arrowhead with her good hand, and exerts just enough pressure with her wrist to snap it off. She grunts in pain and yanks out the shaft, immediately putting pressure on the gushing wound. She removes her pack and rummages one-handed for rolls of bandages; over the course of the next few minutes, she binds her arm off almost as tight as a tourniquet.

The wound needs fire to clean it, but there's no time for that right now. She looks down at the ground beneath her feet and finds the familiar indentation of Biwamaru's cane, as fresh as if it was made minutes ago.

She is so close.

***

Finding Hyakkimaru is disappointingly anticlimactic. He doesn't wave, doesn't come over, doesn't acknowledge her at all--and that hurts, it really does. She's come a long way and too many people have led her on a merry dance throughout every stage of this journey, and her arm hurts horridly. Her horse is as good as lame for the next few weeks at least. Without really thinking it through, she decides to go off on Hyakkimaru--because he really, really deserves it this time.

"I had to go all the way to Konzo and backtrack hours to find you! My horse lost a shoe, I got attacked by bandits--"

It is only as she starts to tear into him that she starts to notice something seriously wrong. Hyakkimaru doesn't talk as much as she does, never has; but total silence is atypical, and the still pose he's taken up against a tree looks unnatural and uncomfortable. Biwamaru is nowhere to be seen, but another woman, frightened and pale, kneels some feet away from her, nearly prostrate.

She's stumbled in on an attack that had nearly killed Hyakkimaru. That stuns her. When he sends her after his pack, she objects because they're not done; not by a long shot, but she still goes.

She looks for Biwamaru's cane marks as she backtracks, but they're nowhere to be seen. Is it possible that he and Hyakkimaru had separated? Is Biwamaru the messenger going back and forth between him and Iwasa? She doesn't know, but she thinks about it while she examines the woods for Hyakkimaru's pack. 

She finds it easily; it's the same one from their days traveling together, mended and weather-beaten almost to the point of falling apart. She's bending to pick it up when she hears, again, the unmistakable sound of an arrow whiz past her ear. A moment later, someone curses.

"Damn it, not again," she says, straightening up and putting her hands up at her sides, trying to demonstrate that she's no threat.

"Don't move, stranger," an unfamiliar voice says. "If you touch that pack, you'll regret it."

Dororo feels more than sees the arrow trained on her, and she keeps her hands up, though her injured shoulder's already gone numb. "Hyakkimaru asked me to get it," she says. "He could be dying."

The woman who comes out of the trees in front of Dororo is about her age, deeply tanned, and with an expression as bitter as acid. She looks like she is concentrating hard, but it also seems like that is her most natural state. Dororo notes the twin kodachi strapped to her hips and gulps, because if this is a short sword wielder trained by Hyakkimaru, she may be outclassed.

"I don't believe you," the woman says.

"I don't have time for this," Dororo mutters. Then she remembers something Iwasa said. "Akiko-san. Look, you take the pack, and I'll take you to him. Fair?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Takeda Iwasa told me."

"So he betrayed us, too. Typical." Akiko snorts through her nose. "You could lead me into a trap."

"I could," Dororo says, "but I promise you, I'm not. I'm his friend, too. You have to trust me. He's in trouble."

A memory of a time when she'd collapsed in fever and been unable to walk surfaces briefly. Hyakkimaru had carried her then, to the temple where she'd recovered. But she'd never expected to see Hyakkimaru paralyzed. 

It's her turn to carry him. 

"And why should I trust you?"

She sighs. What's something about Hyakkimaru that only he would know? "I know that his father sold his body to the twelve demons in the Hall of Hell," she says, reasoning that he doesn't go around and tell just anyone that. Of course, he might not have told Akiko either, but it's the first thing that pops into her head.

Akiko's bow lowers fractionally. "You take the pack. And lead the way," she says. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Dororo picks up the pack and takes off running, Akiko fast on her heels.

Dororo makes it back to the camp at record speed, and she finds everything almost exactly as she left it: pale collapsed woman, injured Hyakkimaru--except that Hyakkimaru is now unconscious.

"Give me a rag," the woman says, and Dororo complies mutely. The woman snatches it from her and yanks a waterskin open, saturating the cloth; then she shuffles over to the tree where Hyakkimaru lies unmoving. Dororo tries to follow her and help her up, but the woman pushes her away.

"You two stay back," she says. "You haven't been dosed yet. I don't know how much of the poison is left."

"Poison." Akiko spits. "Cowards."

The woman smiles weakly. "It was an accident, I'm afraid. The man over there," she says, indicating a corpse that Dororo had completely overlooked in her panic, "broke open a poison jar. It killed him, and injured your friend. I'm sorry."

Akiko folds her arms. "You said injured. He'll recover?"

"I hope so," the woman says. She dabs the wet cloth over Hyakkimaru's face, lifting gray flecks as she cleans it.

Dororo stands up straight and gives the woman a closer look. She's wearing traveling clothes, including good shoes. Her kimono is not adorned with family crest or ornamentation, but the fabric is good quality, dark and thick to keep off rain and be forgiving about stains. She wears no makeup, but her skin is fair and the skin tone is even; she's not a worker or of the peasant class, as even a single glance at her hands makes abundantly clear. A wealthy woman traveling incognito.

"Are you Kagemitsu Daigo's betrothed?" Dororo asks.

The woman puts her chin to her chest. A band of sunlight catches her face, revealing a long thin scar. "Asakura Hitomi. I'm in your care. And you are?"

Dororo sighs. "Daigo Dororo," she says, "Daigo Kagemitsu's heir. The reckless guy in front of you is Daigo's son. His name is Hyakkimaru. And he's not easy to cut down," she says, eyes flicking to Akiko. "I'm sure he'll be okay."

"I admire your confidence," Hitomi says without much conviction. "If he's going to stand any chance, he can't be moved. We'll have to stay here for a while."

"Then I'll set up camp," Akiko says.

"I'll help," Dororo says.

"Fine." Akiko rolls her eyes. "Not like we needed another person to protect on this mission."

Dororo straightens to her full height--and immediately regrets it as her shoulder wound gushes open. "I can protect myself."

Akiko's gaze drifts to the wound on her arm. "Can you?"

"I'm fine," Dororo insists. "Just--tell me what you want me to do."

"Boil some water for that injury," Akiko says. "I'll clean it and bind it up better. And in a few days, I'll test you. Make sure you're not a liability."

Oh, she definitely reminds Dororo of someone--but she doesn't remember Hyakkimaru having quite this large a chip on his shoulder. "You spend a lot of time with Iwasa Takeda, don't you?"

Akiko shrugs. "From what I hear, you spend a lot of time with Kagemitsu Daigo. We don't choose the company we keep. Now come on. Get a fire going, and I'll lay down some traps outside camp in case anyone tries to sneak up on us."

And then she's gone. 

"Um," Dororo says. Then she starts collecting the dry sticks on the ground beneath her into a pile. There aren't as many as she likes because of the recent rain, but she manages to gather enough for kindling without letting Hitomi and Hyakkimaru out of her line of sight.

Hitomi finishes cleaning Hyakkimaru's face, then starts shaking herself. Her eyes go completely white for a few moments, and Dororo shakes her, pours water down her throat, slaps her to get her to respond.

Hitomi blinks rapidly and says, "Thank you, Daigo Dororo-sama. I needed that."

"Call me Dororo," she says. "Dororo-san, if you want to be nice. We're equals."

Hitomi nods. "As you say. You are kind." She takes a deep breath in, then gestures for Dororo to get back. Dororo is confused, but she moves away, and Hitomo spouts a geyser of brown-red vomit onto the earth in front of her.

When it's over, she coughs, and Dororo picks up a waterskin hesitantly. "Do you--need this?" she asks, holding out the water.

"Yes," Hitomi gasps. "Thank you." She accepts the skin and drinks it all in one long draft. Her eyes glitter feverishly, as if she's delirious. "As you can see, this poison is--powerful."

Dororo nods and helps Hitomi up. "Come on. Help me make a fire. I have supplies in my pack. We can make soup."

Hitomi does help her, though her hands shake the entire time. By the time Akiko gets back from laying traps and scouting, they've managed to boil water. Dororo offers Hitomi some dried jerky and fresh bread from her supplies to get her strength up; her arm needs to be treated before they can make soup.

Akiko treats Dororo's arm with cold efficiency, digging far into the arrow hole on both sides of the wound to smooth it out and dislodge any debris. She does a thorough job, but it's painful, and when she's done Dororo asks to lie down for a while. 

Akiko gives her a firm nod. "You handled that well," she says. "And your previous treatment was better than I expected. What did you say your name was again?"

"Dororo," she says. "Daigo Dororo."

"Oh," Akiko says. Suddenly, she looks a little sheepish. "Uh, you don't know me at all, but I've heard a lot about you..."

***

Hyakkimaru wakes up with the taste of iron in his mouth; his throat feels like it's been sanded down. "Water," he manages after a moment, and something cold and wet touches his lips in the dark.

"Welcome back," Dororo whispers. "We thought we'd lost you for a minute there."

Hyakkimaru tries to focus, figure out where he is, but it is too dark. "Dororo," he says, letting himself be grateful, for a moment, that she's here. "Who's 'we'?"

"Biwamaru, Akiko, and that woman you saved, duh."

He tries to sit up, but his head swirls with white mute panic when he lifts it, so he remains still. "Where are they?"

"I sent them along to Enuma."

"And stayed here?"

She shrugs. "Someone had to make sure you didn't die."

He nods uncertainly and frowns, because sending that group ahead is not something he would have done. It's too dangerous to split up out here, and he's surprised Dororo would propose it, let alone agree to it. And hadn't he sent Biwamaru to Iwasa? When had he gotten back? Just how long has he been unconscious?

"You're not out of the woods yet," Dororo says. "Drink up, and go back to sleep. I'll be waiting for you when you wake up."

Hyakkimaru doesn't want to drink it. He wants to get up and find Biwamaru and Akiko and send to Iwasa for more help. He pushes himself on his elbows, ignoring the scream of pain from the base of his skull to the end of his spine, and Dororo laughs at him, and it's cruel.

He collapses onto his back again, and the impact goes through his whole body as if he's been stunned by a blow. His vision starts going black around the edges.

Dororo's voice reaches him from far away: "It seems you need to sleep a little longer."

***

Hyakkimaru tosses in his sleep. His arms convulse, shake, and he mutters half-intelligible nonsense words as he tries to sit up. 

Next to him, Dororo hears the commotion and is suddenly wide awake. She approaches the bedroll where he lies carefully, putting out her hands to press his shoulders down--

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Hitomi's voice says out of the dark. "The poison is still in his system. I'm still sick from cleaning him up a little, and there's no antidote."

"That we know of," Dororo mutters darkly. Hitomi had thrown up for most of the afternoon, and she still looks like she's about to keel over and puke again. Akiko is patrolling the camp in case more bandits show up; judging by the light in the sky overhead, it's almost time for Dororo to relieve her on watch duty.

Hitomi fixes all of her attention on Hyakkimaru for a moment. The odd twitching of his hands is eerie to watch, like seeing someone struck by lightning and convulsing as they burn. "I think the poison altered his mind. I don't know of any medicine to fix that. Do you?"

Dororo shakes her head. Hyakkimaru says "Dororo" in a small slurred voice. It sounds like the first time he'd said her name, when his voice was new.

Tears form at the corners of her eyes that don't fall. Hyakkimaru is stuck in a nightmare, and her only consolation is that she might be in it. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or even more horrified.

"I don't suppose shaking him would do any good, anyway," she mutters.

Hitomi shakes her head. "The poison he's been dosed with is powerful and lingers on skin. I can see it working through his system, but I am not sure how to stop it."

"So we're stuck here until he wakes up?" She looks up at Hitomi hopefully.

Hitomi frowns. "I don't know."

Dororo goes rigid. "What does that mean?"

Hitomi sighs. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the one that follows will owe a little something to another of my "Dororo" fics, "Some Dreaming State." Angst and altered mental states are coming up around the bend.


	6. Surfacing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no update, I know. I apologize, and hope this chapter makes up in length and emotional heft for what it lacked in speediness. Ainikki has had a rough few weeks, and all indications are that the situation will continue as it is. I don't expect the gaps for all the chapters to be THIS long, though.

Dororo spends the next several days largely without sleep, pacing back and forth between the camp and the stream and feeling caged. Hyakkimaru does not die, but he also does not improve, and after the second night he stops vocalizing anything. Most of the time, he seems to be sleeping; only the slight rise and fall of his chest conveys that he's not dead.

And for those first few days, little of note happens. Sometimes travelers pass close by the camp: merchants mostly, and a few of Dororo's own patrols out keeping the roads safe. No soldiers, though, and no bandits; they are slightly removed from Enuma's main shipping lines, and as the days pass the quiet of the forest seems to lean in on her. She often finds it hard to catch her breath: it always feels like she's been running even though she doesn't run, not anymore, except from camp to the stream for water.

Unlike Dororo, who remains lost in a form of mute panic, Akiko copes by sitting directly in front of Hyakkimaru all day while carving arrowheads, vicious-looking bamboo stakes, and making some kind of medicine that she won't tell Dororo about, but seems to involve boiling the roots of a dried flower in syrupy sludge. At night, she sleeps by his feet like a dog, while Dororo sets up her bedroll next to his, almost close enough where if she extended her arms, she could touch him. But she can't, and she doesn't, because Hitomi still insists he could be poisonous.

And so it falls to Hitomi to perform most of the functions that keep him alive: feeding him (gruel, water), checking his injuries, cleaning them at regular intervals. Cleaning him up when he soils himself. 

When Dororo chooses to think about it (and she really hates thinking about it), she knows that the root cause of her paralytic terror is that she is not actually capable of doing anything to make this situation better. Hyakkimaru has to get better--or get worse--with or without her help. She roils against this because in the past there has always been something she could do, but in this case she is forced to trust a stranger with the life of her best friend.

She can't help Hyakkimaru, not directly. So, after the first day and a half of fishmouthed unproductive panic, she offers to help Hitomi instead. At first in small ways, like getting up early to catch fish for the camp, or going on foraging expeditions so that Hitomi and Akiko can sleep a little longer. Akiko prefers the night watch, so Dororo gives it to her, working all day on cleaning soiled rags and clothing in the river--her own, Hitomi's, Hyakkimaru's, and even Akiko's. As she beats the clothing and rags clean with small roughened stones, and she doubts she's ever been so conscious of her own cleanliness on the road.

The holding pattern continues. Akiko starts talking about sending for more help, for actual physicians, but Hitomi shuts this suggestion down. 

"There is no known antidote for this poison," Hitomi says. "My family wouldn't use it if there was. If he hadn't gulped down a lot of water to flush the worst of the effects immediately, he would already be dead. If he's going to wake up at all, it should be in the next two or three days."

Akiko and Dororo lock gazes across the fire. Three days.

"And if he doesn't wake up by then?" Dororo asks.

Hitomi sighs. "He won't need a physician, then, but a priest."

***

Hyakkimaru loses track of where he is. Or, perhaps more accurately, he loses track of himself: where and why and what. He understands that he is ill; he has been ill before and knows the signs, knows that's why he's having so much trouble concentrating on much of anything for very long. Occasionally, he feels like he is strong enough to break free of the cold black numbness that keeps him lost to the world, but whenever he tries to wake up, something pushes him down.

Someone.

Dororo.

It's not always her, but she's often there when he fights his way through the debilitating weakness wracking his limbs: her face hovering above his, her voice, sometimes soothing, sometimes berating. Jukai is also there sometimes, though this is infrequent, perhaps because he remembers that Jukai is dead. 

He suspects his mind is trying to provide a sense of being cared for while he's helpless as a way of fending off despair or panic. But he doesn't feel either. He's still alive. In his current state, that means someone is keeping him alive--which means that Dororo, Akiko and Hitomi are likely still alive as well. 

The only thing he really worries about is the Asakura rebel army. He had managed to send a message to Iwasa before being felled by Hitomi's poison, but Iwasa might not be able to mobilize fast enough--and he doubts he's in any condition to be moved. If he doesn't recover quickly--or Iwasa doesn't send help fast enough--then they're all sitting ducks. 

So when Dororo appears as a figure in his poison-tinged nightmares, he tries to warn her. "You need to move," he says. "Leave me here. Run."

Sometimes, Dororo's face tightens as if she's physically in pain. "Leaving you to die--I can't do it." Other times, she laughs at him as if she thinks he's joking. Other, rarer times, she slaps him, and he goes back to numb unconsciousness again--but he always tries to warn her all the same.

He knows that all of these versions of Dororo cannot be real, but he hopes that at least one of them is. 

It takes him some days to realize that even if Dororo isn't here in this numb black world, she may represent some way of leaving it. Before this realization, he had dismissed her presence as merely psychologically convenient: the presence of a friend known to be nearby helping him recover, but that does not explain her extreme variances in attitude--or why his other friends do not appear as well.

Iwasa has cared for him when he's fallen in combat before. So has Akiko, to a lesser extent. He tries to call for them, but they do not come--even though he knows they would, if either of them could hear him. 

The next time he sees Jukai in his dreams, Jukai gives him part of the answer, though it takes him a long time to put the pieces together. One of the side effects of this poison fog is that his brain works so much more slowly than he's used to. He would hate it, if he had the energy to hate anything. 

There's a soft light like dawn behind his eyelids, and his eyes snap open to the sound of a lathe scraping on wood: Jukai is planing planks for his prosthetics. It is a very familiar sound, but the sight is blurry; this makes sense: Hyakkimaru has never actually seen him working, and only understands the specialized tools he must have used by touch.

"You're awake," Jukai says without looking away from his work. He's crafting an arm, but the fingers aren't articulated yet; the bearing that attaches into the joint is what he's scraping down. "That was a terrible demon. Are you all right?"

Terrible demon? No; that's not why he's here. Not this time. "I've been poisoned."

"Yes, I know," Jukai says. "This is a new threat. You need to be careful."

Hyakkimaru nods weakly as he pokes holes in Jukai's pat explanation of the situation. Hyakkimaru himself is lucid, not delusional, but his surroundings appear to be crafted from memory. Jukai seems to assume he was attacked by a demon that poisoned him because that is consistent with his life with Jukai; Jukai could not know or guess that he'd ever go on a diplomatic mission for Daigo, of all people. And because Jukai is dead, Hyakkimaru has effectively been transported into his own past: there's nothing here he doesn't already know and understand.

And so Jukai--this Jukai--is limited by the bounds of his own knowledge; he likely doesn't know anything that Hyakkimaru doesn't know himself. But he already knew he wasn't talking to the living, breathing Jukai, so really, understanding that he's talking to himself is the next logical step. 

"Why are you here?" he asks, because it's not like he can truly offend a construct of his own mind. "What do you expect me to to?"

A pause while Jukai sets his lathe aside. Then: "I am someone you lost," Jukai says. "I had to let you leave, but it almost killed me to do that--not that, not again." Hyakkimaru gets a brief impression of Kaname leaving Jukai under much more hostile circumstances, though he'd never thought much about that before. "And then I had to save you, no matter the cost." 

A pause as he works on the arm joint, careful, precise as sanding. "That is why I am here," Jukai says. "As for what I expect you to do--well, this is a place for things you have lost. Notice that you are whole here. You can see. You can feel. You can even move, to a limited extent. You are right that this is a constructed world--one you've made in your own mind. I have seen something similar with long-comatose patients over the years--you may remember the woman that lingered over a year in unconsciousness--but I do not know how to free you from this place."

Hyakkimaru does remember the woman Jukai mentioned. She had kept calling out names, the same two or three over and over again, until she'd died. Like him, she'd seen visions of other people in her dreams.

"I sent you away, once." Jukai sighs, and the skin crinkles around his eyes. "It hurt, at the time, but as things are now I wish you could just get up, open the door and go back to your old life."

"Me, too," Hyakkimaru mutters. "Do you have any ideas?" He tries and is able to sit up without pain throbbing through his head, so that's progress. "If this is a place for things I've lost...maybe I'm supposed to find something here? Something specific?"

Jukai looks up from inspecting his work on the arm, and the corners of his mouth twitch upward. "My brilliant son," he mutters.

Hyakkimaru blinks, and the walls of Jukai's home fade around him; he sinks back to the cold black dark again, but he doesn't entirely lose consciousness. He focuses on what Jukai had told him: there's something he needs to find in this place, like a puzzle piece or an anchor. Once he finds it, he can find his mooring and leave.

But what is he supposed to find?

When he surfaces again, he's back in the forest with Dororo. The shapes of others appear in nearby; the bedroll at his feet might be Akiko's, and another near the fire next to him may be Dororo's or Hitomi's. He's never seen the full campsite before, only scattered shadowy pieces of Dororo's face. He considers the possibility that he may actually be awake this time.

"Dororo," he says. 

"I'm here," she says. She props up a waterskin for him, and he gulps down water in ragged gasps.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days," she whispers, and her face is hidden half in shadow. "I should wake the others. Let them know you're okay."

"I'm not." He may be awake, but trying to prop himself up here is impossible. There's a line of cold from the base of his skull to the end of his spine. He can't feel his feet--or his hands. His neck feels stiff and gnarled from too many days spent bent at unnatural angles. 

"Just as well," Dororo says. "I can't really wake them, anyway."

A silence as Hyakkimaru understands this place to be another extension of his mental prison. The details are getting finer; perhaps that counts for something. 

This is a place for things he's lost.

"I lost you," he mutters. "And I keep losing you."

"What are you talking about," Dororo says, and it's not a question, but more of an exasperated statement.

"I can't wake up," he says, and the darkness takes him again.

***

Three more days pass, and Hyakkimaru does not wake. He also does not die, and judging from the black line around his mouth the poison doesn't spread further than it had initially. Dororo has seen some nerve poisons at work before when she'd run with Itachi, and knows that a black ring like that would have spidered out to other veins if the poison had truly spread.

He's fighting it, and fighting it hard, whatever it is. She'd expect nothing less.

But Hitomi still suggests putting him out of his misery.

When Hitomi first brings up the subject, Dororo is completely still and silent. She does not move except to turn away. Akiko is her mirror image, poised protectively above Hyakkimaru's still form. "Try it," Dororo says, "and I won't just kill you. I'll crush your fucking skull."

Akiko nods in sharp agreement, and adds, "Before or after I rip out your spine. I'm not picky."

She and Dororo smile faintly at one another. They may disagree on some things, but their points of commonality are profound.

Hitomi sighs deeply, and her eyes flit from Akiko to Dororo, back and forth, nervous. "I've never seen anyone survive against the poison this long. Maybe you're right. It's worth a chance, at least."

Dororo does not trust this assertion, and neither does Akiko. It's a long, sleepless night for everyone in camp after that--well, everyone except Hyakkimaru.

Around midnight, Dororo hears a rumbling, feels the earth shake beneath her feet. Akiko gets to her feet and whispers, "Do you hear that?"

Dororo nods. "Earthquake, maybe?"

Akiko puts her ear to the ground. A few moments pass before she says, "Boots. Lots of them. Heading this way. I'm putting out the fire. Wake the poisonous she-bitch up for me."

"You got it." 

Dororo kicks Hitomi awake and tells her to pack as rapidly as possible. Dororo and Akiko are naturally efficient; aside from their bedrolls, everything they need is already in their packs. They are prepared to flee in seconds, while Hitomi takes a few minutes. The minutes stretch like hours as the sound of the marchers approaches--

\--but they don't have hours, or even very many more minutes, and there's still the problem of Hyakkimaru. Simply put, Hyakkimaru cannot be moved--but Dororo does know some ways of hiding in plain sight. As soon as she finishes strapping her pack on, Dororo hails Akiko and says, "Bring me as many dead leaves as you can. And leather twine." She has enough sticks here to craft a frame, though it's going to be crude. It's night and the fire is out; with any luck, even a thin raincover of leaves will conceal him from their enemies as they pass by.

Dororo finishes her work hastily, and Akiko helps her secure it to the ground around him with loose stone and old wood. Then, Akiko lifts Hitomi piggyback style, and they run deeper into Asakura territory, as far from the soldiers as they can.

But they aren't fast enough. Dororo understands that within half an hour: the sound of the army behind them gets louder and closer by the moment, and Dororo calls them to a halt. "We can't outrun them," she says. "We need to climb."

"I--am not very good at climbing," Hitomi says sheepishly.

"I'm not surprised," Dororo says. "Akiko, I saw a pine grove a quarter mile back against the rock. It might be possible to hide in the underbrush there."

"And where will you be?"

Dororo points to the top of an enormous elm tree, probably at least a hundred years old. She leaps, shimmies up, and in a few moments is completely concealed behind the trunk of the old tree.

"Got it," Akiko says as she hoists Hitomi's legs over her hips. 

"Scream if you run into trouble."

"You, too."

And then Hitomi and Akiko are gone.

It's quiet up in the trees, almost peaceful. Dororo clings to the tree with more strength than she needs for the task, as if she's trying to squeeze out the tree's own strength and vitality to sustain her. She's exhausted, sleep-deprived, sick to her soul over whether the army will find Hyakkimaru or not. 

But she also hasn't felt this alive in a long time. She grew up in a war zone and became a demon hunter, and an interloper into high society from the lowest of low places: she's used to danger, and something about it steadies her and helps her focus. Most people would be panicking right now, but the situation only serves to make her calmer.

Men pass under her, lots of them, as dispersed as they can be under the trees. She counts nearly a hundred men out front; the stragglers following the vanguard are harder to count, but it's definitely enough men to invade a minor settlement--maybe even a major one, depending on if the men are veterans or not. She spots very few women in the ranks, and most wear bows and little armor: scouts, maybe, or couriers. 

Dororo considers the possibility that this is the vanguard of a much larger army, and gulps. Then she notes their bearing and orientation: farther into Asakura territory. It's almost full dark so she can't see fine details anyway, but she doesn't see any of the men on horseback carrying standards or showing insignia. It's a large raiding force--and whoever hired them doesn't want to advertise themselves.

It takes the better part of half an hour for the main force to pass, some three or four hundred by her reckoning. She waits for the sound of the last footfalls to fade before climbing down the tree, and heads back in the direction of the patch of pine forest where she hopes to meet Akiko.

Akiko and Hitomi are there, alive and unharmed, though Hitomi has turned white as a sheet. "Are you all right?" Dororo asks. "What happened?"

"This one," Akiko says, sticking her thumb in Hitomi's direction, "recognized their leader."

"It's my uncle, Asakura Hiroto," she says. "He must have learned about the alliance--he's heading back where I come from. Please, we have to stop them, before--"

Before they destroy Hitomi's home city. And anything else in their way. Dororo closes her eyes for a moment and thinks, but really, there's nothing to consider. The three of them--against an army? Impossible. "We can't," she says.

"Please." Hitomi kowtows in the dirt, low, ruining her clothing. "Amagi is my home. I am certain that these men were sent to kill my family. It is possible they intend to kill me." She looks up. There are tears at the corners of her eyes that don't fall. "I know you owe me nothing, but--please. I beg you."

Dororo glances over to Akiko. "Can you get a message to Iwasa?"

"Not in under a day," Akiko says, "and those men will attack in hours, not days. If we wait for help it will be too late."

Armed with new information, Dororo reconsiders her options. 

They aren't great.

Protecting Hyakkimaru, at least until he can protect himself again, is her first priority. But leaving a city to be burned at the torch isn't really her style, either, and it's never been her preference. She remembers Itachi and his flaming arrows, and something in her gut clenches in disgust.

Even if she stays camped in place, if these raiders loot Amagi and come back this way, she's probably going to have to fight them. No matter what, she'll probably have to fight them. Her only real option is the battleground: here in the woods, or in Amagi.

Protect Hyakkimaru, or protect a city.

She knows which one Hyakkimaru would choose, but she's not him and she's allowed to be selfish. "I'm sorry," she says in a voice not much louder than a whisper. "We--need to get back to the campsite."

Akiko frowns. "I think that goes against Hyakkimaru-san's mission."

"I know," she says, "but it's not worth his life. Is it?"

Akiko's frown deepens. "What do you mean?"

"If we go to Amagi we'll have to leave him," she says. "He can't walk. Moving him is dangerous until the poison's gone. If we carried him, the trip could kill him--so he has to stay at camp. And if we're killed, he'll die anyway." Her voice is calm, but her shoulders are shaking.

Akiko slumps in an expression of defeat. "I wish we could ask him what he wants," she mutters. "I don't know what to do."

Dororo doesn't, either.

***

Hyakkimaru's eyes are closed. He slits them open and catches a glimpse of flickering fire. He sits up fully, and there is no pain, and he is relieved.

He turns to look at the fire, and instead sees a dark-haired woman in an old-style kimono, ringed in a corona of flame.

"Mizuha," he says, and he's genuinely happy to see her. She's saved him enough times in the past; it's possible she can help him now. She had managed to save his mind when the demons would have stolen it--from his perspective, she's the perfect person to help him riddle himself out of his own head.

"I wondered when you'd remember me." Mizuha folds her arms. "So. You're in rotten shape. More bad luck, huh?"

"You can say that again." He opens his eyes wide, trying to clear the smudginess from the edges of his vision. "I don't even know if you're real or not. You're not someone I lost, so--"

"You're wrong," she says, cutting him off. "Your mother lost faith. You lost me then. I only returned because you found me in Asakura."

He nods, and immediately regrets it as an electric shock of pain cuts him in half at the spine. Two steps forward, one step back...his recovery is not going to be easy. "Why do I feel like you're not the answer, either?"

"I'm not," she says. "But I'm glad to know you're still alive. And I do think you will figure it out."

"What?"

She gestures expansively, arms wide. "The way out, of course." 

"Any hints?"

She shrugs. "You already know what you need to know. Just keep thinking about it. It will come to you."

And then she's gone--but he doesn't fade back into the trackless dark. Instead, he does what she asks: he stays in his dull, formless dream world and thinks.

He has seen only three people that he remembers: Dororo, Jukai, and Mizuha, in that order. He has seen Jukai twice, and Mizuha only once. They seem like themselves, but it is entirely possible that he constructed them based on what he remembers them to be. But that doesn't matter right now: what matters is what he's seen.

He's seen Dororo a lot compared to the other two, and that's strange. Maybe that's the hint? He'd assumed that Dororo was someone he'd lost, but he'd actually never lost her, not really. It could be argued that he had abandoned her after becoming whole, but guilt is not the power keeping him comatose. Guilt has rarely had much power over him at all. His life has been too full of extreme choices for personal guilt.

So then, what does Dororo have to do with anyone he's lost?

He considers the people who have lost their lives because of him. It's a long list: his own mother, his blood brother, the thugs who had kidnapped Dororo, Iwasa's fellow mercenaries. Demons. Crazed and power-mad samurai. Nameless Takeda rebels who had chosen to die by his swords rather than submit. It feels like he's killed an ocean of people; suddenly, he remembers Jukai questioning if he'd done the right thing in saving him.

That thought snaps him back to himself somewhat--or at least helps clear his head--and he utters a single word:

"Mio."

Someone he'd lost, and would never recover. Like Jukai, but not; Jukai had elected his own end, and Hyakkimaru had been given time and space to heal after his death. He has not thought of Mio voluntarily in--well, ever.

He thinks of her now, and a white wraith coalesces at the level of his eyes: a ghost with her shape. He remembers that he had never seen what she looked like--and never will. "Mio?" he asks, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

"Yes," she says. Her voice comes from somewhere far away, half-remembered and somewhat distorted from what he remembers. "I never thought I'd see you again. Are you all right?"

"I--" He tries to shake his head, blink his mind clear, but both movements prove too much for his coordination, and he ends up sitting rigidly still. "I'm dying."

The ghost comes nearer, shining white like winter sunlight. "I'm sorry," she says. "Was it the fire?"

"No," he says. "I--forgive me. I lived. Through the fire."

"I'm glad." She has no facial expressions like this, but her voice conveys a smile. "I hoped you and Dororo and the children would escape."

"Dororo and I did."

"Not the children?"

He is silent for what feels like a long while. "I see." A pause. "How long has it been?"

"Almost ten years."

"And you haven't forgotten me?"

"Never." His voice breaks; his ribs contract and pitch him forward and the pain is unbearable but somehow he bears it, letting out a scream like a howl. The entire inside of his head goes white, seared with anguish that may be just as much mental as it is physical. 

When he comes back to himself, Mio's ghost is still there, fainter now than it had been before. "I am sorry," she says.

He frowns. "What for?"

"For causing you pain. I do not know why you are dying, but I suspect the situation you find yourself in now may be my fault." Another pause, and her hand extends to his forehead, gliding over it gently. Her touch is cool and numbing; the pain recedes a fraction, and he manages to fully sit up again.

"None of this is your fault," he says. "It's mine. All of it. If I had been there--"

Mio sighs. "If I had not sold myself to the enemy armies for food, the temple's children would have starved. But if I had restrained myself just that one time--stayed in with the children when you went to slay the demon the second time--the soldiers would not have killed me. Driven me off, perhaps. Me and the children. I--" Her voice deepens and thickens a bit, and Hyakkimaru suspects this is her crying voice. He has never heard it before--and never wanted to. Or maybe he did.

Hers is the first voice he ever understood. 

Her hand moves from his forehead to his chin, and she props it up, makes him look at her. "I got caught playing both sides," she says. "They had to kill me as a traitor, after that. Even if I'd gone to another place with the children, they would have found me eventually." A long pause. "I've thought about this, a lot. And talked with Takeo-chan, too. No matter what, our dream was just a dream." And her hand drops to his shoulder and cups it, as her other hand settles over his heart. "And it meant the world to us that you saw it, too."

He's crying and he doesn't notice. "Even though I couldn't make it real?"

"Even so." There's a smile in her voice again. "You believed in us. Gave us a few last days of hope and peace. No one else has ever given me so much."

"It's not enough," he says, blinking back tear-blindness. "You deserve everything," he says with conviction, as if she is not dead.

"I am in a peaceful place," she says. "I cannot have everything, not anymore. Perhaps you should have it, for me."

"Huh?"

"You are a good person, Hyakkimaru. I did not know you for very long, but I suspect that you are in the trouble you're in now is probably because you chose to help someone else. Am I wrong?"

"No."

"And you need to get back to them, to help them--right?"

"Yes."

"What's stopping you?" A small sound, almost a giggle. "Even a demon ripping your leg off couldn't stop you before."

"I didn't really need to find something I lost," he says in a rush as it hits him: _the way out._ "That was the clue, but it was only half the answer. I'm fighting off a terrible poison, right now. It destroys the mind as well as the body. If I'm ever going to wake up, I need to address all the mental and physical pain I can myself, so that my body can fight off the poison.

"I can't do anything for my body. I leave that in Dororo's hands. But I can do something for my mind. You've shown me that."

"I have?" Mio cocks her head to one side. "I am glad to know Dororo is alive. When you awaken, please tell her I always hoped she'd live a better life than mine."

"She has," he says. "At least so far. And--" He shakes his head, and it doesn't hurt this time. "It's probably too much to hope for, but--are you real?"

"'Real'?"

"I think most of what I've seen in this place has been things I've remembered. Things I've constructed. But not real people or things." He sighs. "I guess I answered my own question."

Mio is silent for a few moments as her left hand passes over his cheek, his eyes, his mouth. "I cannot prove myself real or not real. I leave that question to buddhas and sages. I know that you needed to talk to me, and I am here." And she kisses him on the forehead: a cold, tingling sensation that cuts through to his bones. "And I think you may need to talk to me again, but not now."

"Why?"

"Why?" Her tone is sprightly, like she's about to ask him to dance. "You have someone to save." And she kisses him on the mouth, once, feather-light. She fades, and he can hear the words of her song, faint, as she disappears completely.

He opens his eyes.

***

"Dororo?" Hyakkimaru asks, sitting up bolt upright and gasping for breath. "Are you there?"

"Of course I'm here." She's crouched down next to him in seconds, and supports his back as he sits up. She reaches for the waterskin next to him and undoes the ties; with her free hand, she holds it at an angle so that he can drink. 

"Is it really you, this time?" he chokes out between huge gulps of water.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks. "Did you meet my evil twin, or something?"

He closes his eyes, and for a second she thinks he's passed out again, but he speaks. "I have dreams. Sometimes."

He continues to sip from the waterskin, slowly, and they sit in silence for a while, the camp still and silent except for Akiko's snores and the crackling of the fire.

"Is the Asakura girl all right?" he asks.

"She's fine," Dororo says. "Akiko and I have been guarding her."

"Akiko's here," he breathes. "Good."

"Want me to wake her? She'll want to talk to you--"

"No," he says quickly, cutting her off. "I don't have much time. I feel it."

"Don't say that," Dororo says. "You're awake. Getting better."

"I don't know," he says, and Dororo notices sweat standing out on his skin. His entire body is wracked with tiny shivers. "It's--bad. You need to get someplace safer. Leave me."

"No," she says. "Not an option."

He breathes deeply. "Dororo. Listen. I don't know if you're real or not. This poison messes with my head. But if it's really you, then you have to get out of here. There's an army coming."

Her eyes widen. "You knew?"

Another deep, torturous breath. "They're already here," he whispers. "Damn it. How long was I out?"

"Almost a week."

"Then you have to leave. Get away from here."

"Apparently, they're going to attack Asakura Hitomi's home city," Dororo says. "She wants us to save it."

Hyakkimaru remains silent, but his eyes are still open. After a pause, he says, "I see. What will you do?"

"We're staying here. With you."

"No," he says. "Flee, or help the city, but don't wait here to be killed with me. I'm dead weight. I can't help you."

"Aniki." She hasn't called him that in what feels like a long time. "You're asking me to abandon my only real family. I can't do that. Not to you."

He sighs. "Don't abandon me, then. Fight. Protect the city, and come back for me."

"What if they kill you?"

He smiles weakly. "I'll play dead. They might pick me clean, but at worst they'll just leave me for dead. And if you don't get somewhere safer, they'll slaughter you." He coughs weakly and his eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Dororo says. She shakes his shoulders with more force than is probably necessary. "Don't go passing out on me again. You just woke up!"

"Iwasa's army is coming," he says in a voice not much louder than a whisper. "South. South and east." A pause, and one more word, spoken from deep in his chest: "Run."

When he closes his eyes this time, he doesn't open them again.

Dororo hugs her knees to her chest and _shakes._


	7. Four Against an Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she shakes Akiko's shoulders, she realizes that she's actually decided to pit the four of them against an enemy army of a hundred or more soldiers. Something tightens within her gut: this is not the hardest thing she's ever done. She even manages to convince herself that that's true--almost.

Hyakkimaru doesn't wake up again after that, and they're out of time. Dororo doesn't have it in her to flee, even though that's probably the best option...so she wakes Akiko.

As she shakes Akiko's shoulders, she realizes that she's actually decided to pit the four of them against an enemy army of a hundred or more soldiers. Something tightens within her gut: this is not the hardest thing she's ever done. She even manages to convince herself that that's true--almost.

Akiko pushes her off grumpily, and says, "I'm up, I'm up. What the everliving fuck is going on?"

Dororo smiles despite herself, because she can imagine Takeda Iwasa saying that. She remembers Iwasa is coming, but she can't count on him for a rescue when she doesn't know how far away he is, so her mind discards that strategy in favor of others that work against high numbers in combat: ranged attacks, traps...poison.

"We need Hitomi," she mutters. "Can you carry her while we run?"

Akiko yawns hugely. "Why? Where are we going?"

"Amagi, I think," she says.

"Urk. Why?"

"Hyakkimaru said to save the city, if we could."

Akiko's eyes snap open, too wide, as if she's forcibly holding them that way. "He told you that? He was awake?"

"For a minute or so," she says. "C'mon. We can talk while running."

Hitomi handles being woken up with more grace, and kowtows to both her and Akiko when she's told where they're going. Dororo hastily reconstructs the cover she had made for Hyakkimaru, not much more than leaves and sticks; she hopes it will conceal him until one of them can come back to check on him. 

If the soldiers kill them, Hyakkimaru will die, too.

She won't let that happen.

Hitomi climbs up on Akiko's back piggyback-style, and Akiko indicates her bundle of sharpened bamboo and her pack.

"We'll want all of that," Akiko says, and Dororo winces as she lifts the pack over her shoulders. She carries the bundle of bamboo in front of her. "Be careful," Akiko says. "Don't touch the sharp end."

Dororo lifts an eyebrow, then starts running. Her shoulder complains at every bound, but it's a dull ache and she ignores it. "Why can't I touch the sharp part of the bamboo?" she asks Akiko as they lurch into motion.

"The medicine I was making...wasn't medicine," she says, and does not quite meet Dororo's eyes.

"Then what is it?"

"Uh...poison."

"Why did you..." But then Dororo understands. Akiko had thought they'd be staying in place for a while. Roving bandits along the road are a rarer sight than they used to be, but they are still far from rare. Akiko has made as many as fifty or sixty sticks, by the weight and bulk; more than enough to dig deep pits on either side of their little ravine and wait for the bad guys to fall in. "I should have thought of that," Dororo says.

"One of us did, anyhow," Akiko pants, already a little out of breath. "I don't know how much those will help us. I have ingredients for a lot more poison, but it takes time to prepare. Those sticks, though," she says, hoisting Hitomi further up her back as she runs, "they're not bad throwing weapons, if you have the arm strength," Akiko says. She surveys Dororo critically. "I think you do. How about it?"

"I know we can use them," Dororo says. "I'm just not sure how yet."

The army that had gone to Amagi had been large; she knows that much. A hundred men? Two hundred? More? She isn't sure, but she doesn't think it was more than that. First order of business should be to scout their camp and...

"Hey, Akiko," she says, "you got any of that poison ready-made?"

"Some. Why?"

"I just had a really interesting idea..."

***

Dororo rips off her hakama, leaving her in nothing but a filthy and bloodstained kimono. She tears off the bandage at her shoulder, and though the wound is half-healed it oozes a little when she rotates her arm hard enough. She cups one hand around the pouch concealed in her obi and nods firmly. In addition to Akiko's poison, Hitomi had contributed as well; the pouch feels heavy as it presses against the small of her back.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing," Akiko says. "Maybe I should go."

"I need you to keep Hitomi safe, and to keep Hyakkimaru alive," Dororo says. "Besides, I know what I'm doing." Sort of. She and her mother had sometimes traveled with camp women--or more often ex-camp women; women whose faces had been disfigured or breasts cut off or--worse. Dororo also remembers Mio, how sweet and lovely she'd been to the children; the mother those children never had.

Dororo's mother had never been forced into the position of being a camp woman. The opportunity had been there, but she'd refused. By pretending to be one, Dororo is on shaky moral ground, but she thinks her mother would forgive her if she knew the deception would save lives.

And if Dororo gets her breasts cut off, it's not like she needs them, anyway.

She waits with Akiko in the thick tree cover at the edge of a rocky gorge. Hitomi has fled to a safe distance, a mile or two back to an enclosed cave where they can build a fire without drawing attention. As soon as Dororo makes it into the camp, Akiko will go back there--and lay their traps along the path.

There are muddy, mushy spots all along the road; firm enough to hold up spikes, not soft enough for them to topple over without some weight being put on them. And the steep cliffs that surround them on either side provide good places for a trap of falling stones. That kind of trap will take some hours to create--but Dororo intends to give Akiko those hours.

"Timing is everything," Akiko says. "It'll be easier for us to lure them into the traps if it's dark. Or at least not full noon."

"I understand," Dororo says. "I'll do what I can to be discovered at night." 

"This plan is too loose and unsophisticated," Akiko says. "You're putting yourself in danger. What if they do actually catch you? What then?"

"Then the plan doesn't change," Dororo says, her voice level. "They'll march back this way eventually. There's no other road from here to the east. You spring the traps and kill as many of those bastards as you can."

Akiko sighs. "I should go with you."

"And leave Hitomi alone? You think she can handle herself out here?"

Akiko shakes her head. "I just...splitting up. It feels wrong. We should all be doing this together."

"We are," Dororo says. "We're just playing different parts." She whips the cord out of her hair, and it falls heavily down along the line of her spine. She runs her fingers through it several times, then smears her fingers on the blood of her shoulder wound and daubs more blood on her face. "How do I look?"

Akiko frowns. "You're going to have to look awfully scared to sell it. And put your hands in the mud; they're too clean."

Dororo does as Akiko instructs. She hears an owl call high in the trees and looks up: the moon has risen, thin light filtering through the bare branches of the trees overhead. 

"Time to go," Dororo says. "I'll be back tomorrow night--at latest, the night after. If you don't hear from me, or the army marches back toward you, flee east. Find Iwasa."

"I know," Akiko says quickly, in something like exasperation or frustration. "I know the plan. But you'd better fucking come back."

***

Dororo can smell the camp before she sees it: woodsmoke, lacquer and pitch, with the smell of shit beneath the rest of it. They must have set up latrines--and smelling pitch and lacquer tells her they're probably repairing gear and making explosive weapons.

The ground becomes progressively more uneven as she walks; she almost loses her warashi twice. She'd rather go barefoot out here, but Akiko had wisely pointed out that she wouldn't know the road conditions near the camp, so it was better to have some protection for her feet than none.

She reaches the outer edges of the camp around noon. Scouts retreat in front of her, and she utterly ignores them; her goal is to get as far in as she can before she's intercepted. She keeps moving, allowing her footsteps to go jagged and her posture to jangle loose and crooked, and it's not hard: she truly is injured and exhausted, even if not as badly as she's putting on.

She expects to be accosted by one of the camp guards, or a common soldier at the outskirts, but when she does encounter men dressed in nondescript armor--no mon, no banners to be seen--they step back and give her room. She takes a moment to pause in her progress, frowning deeply.

Then she feels a hand on her bad shoulder. She straightens up fully--doesn't even need to think about it--and X-blocks her body from the head down, preparing to scream--

"Oh, you poor dear," an older woman says, holding a handkerchief to her face. Her other hand is still clenched on Dororo's shoulder; Dororo's arms block her from getting a full view of the woman's face. "Are you all right? Who did this to you?"

"Bandits," Dororo says as she lowers her arms, and the lie is easy. "On the road. I was with my mother and my friend, and we--" She remembers her mother lying still in a field of spider lilies, rail thin and colder than the autumn wind, colder than the long winter that followed, and it's not even that hard for her to cry.

"It's all right," another woman says. "You're safe now. No one here will hurt you." This woman is younger than the old woman; her kimono is blue-green and has a light silk sheen but no pattern. Dororo takes a step back, and observes a group of women huddled around a large-to-middle sized fire pit, lined with stones; a few tents, black and green, are set back into the woods, where they blend into the trees. Aside from the younger woman and the matron, the other women wear only muslin and dun colors. By their clothes, they are the highest-ranked camp women; perhaps their...lovers? clientele? are generals or officers instead of common soldiers.

"I'm Mio," she says, using the first name that pops into her head and immediately regretting it. "Have you--seen my mother? Or any other women on the road?"

The old matron's expression softens in pity. "I'm sorry, child," she says. "You are the only one we have seen."

Of course she is, but Dororo makes a show of being heartbroken just the same. "Oh god, great buddha, what if they--"

"Come with us," the younger woman says firmly. "We'll get you cleaned up and give you something to eat. You should feel a lot better after that, I think."

***

Getting access to the army camp is a good first step. Early on, she confirms that the army hasn't made its move on Amagi yet. For reasons that aren't clear to her but that everyone else seems to know, the army seems to be waiting for something. A signal? Supplies? 

She doesn't know how to find out what they're waiting for, except by listening and observing the people she's fallen in with.

The old woman's name is Suzuki, and the younger one is Nahoko. They take it upon themselves to give Dororo a bath--much appreciated--and clean clothes; muslin, like what the other women are wearing. They are in the mountains, so Dororo is afforded the luxury of a bath in an onsen. She refuses to let Suzuki or Nahoko wash her back for her, even though they each offer--twice.

When Dororo leaves the onsen in fresh clothes, she notices men drawing water from a clear pool set a little way into the mountain, fed by a small stream from above. The waterfall is lovely, and she uses that excuse to admire it a little longer than necessary as she thinks: _Yes, that will work._

Back in the main womens' camp, Dororo gets a meal in the form of a decently thick bowl of gruel. That only serves to remind her of her mother; she has no trouble faking her despondency in front of the other women.

While she's spider-crawling rough chopsticks along the edge of her still half-full wooden bowl, Nahoko takes a seat next to her and says, "Miss--Mio? Are you sure you're all right? Can I get you anything?"

Dororo shakes her head faintly. She winces at her fake name every time someone says it. "You are too kind to me. I don't deserve it." Really. Truly. Honestly. When she'd first devised this plan, she had expected to get in by stealth and earn a place closer to the heart of camp by shameless flirtation, at the very least; she had not at all expected to find the women of the camp so hospitable.

 _They must want something from me_ , she reasons to herself. But what?

Nahoko clicks her tongue. "If you ask around, you'll find several of us with similar stories. It's safer to travel with this lot than without, provided you don't catch too many eyes." Nahoko frowns. "And you might, girl. Do you have a husband?"

Dororo is briefly taken aback--but really, she should have expected this line of questioning. "No. I--that is, I--no. Never."

Nahoko's expression becomes sharp, penetrative, like she's trying to see to the core of who Dororo is and doesn't care if she flays some skin off in the process. "Don't tell anyone else that, girl. Not even any of the other women. Your husband's name was Yuuta, and he was in the battle outside of Amagi last week, possibly captured while securing the road. Understand?"

Dororo nods, then frowns. "But why? Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't matter at all to me," she says, "but it matters to men." 

Dororo looks at Nahoko and sees something dark and haunted in her expression. "Is Yuuta-san dead?"

Nahoko does not answer for a moment. Then: "I will find something for you to cover your head. It will be safer for you that way." She nods, and retrieves something like a cowl for Dororo to wear over the lower half of her face.

"I wish I could repay you for your kindness," Dororo says.

Nahoko's eyes pinch together at the corners. "Don't think we've saved you. It might be best for you to flee again as soon as you've recovered." She looks around nervously, and locates Suzuki at the other side of the camp, well out of earshot. "Truth be told, this isn't a nice place."

"I wondered what an army was doing with a camp of women at the edge," she says. "So it's what I think it is, is it?"

"Exactly right," Nahoko says. "I am glad that you are merely inexperienced and not naive. The truth is," Nahoko says, "I would flee with you in a moment, if I thought we could escape." Her eyes are wet and glassy; she is close to crying.

"Nahoko-san?" Dororo asks gently.

"Oh, never mind me," Nahoko says, wiping her eyes. "Eat. Rest. But leave soon--for your own sake."

***

As the women of the camp prepare for bed, Suzuki brings Dororo a thin bedroll and a blanket so torn it's practically threadbare, but at least it's clean. Dororo lays out the bedroll near one of the smaller fires and hopes Akiko's traps are ready. She hopes Hyakkimaru hasn't been discovered. She hopes Iwasa is a lot closer than she thinks he is.

She doesn't sleep. She needs to wait for everyone around her in the camp to drift off. Then she can sneak over to the supply wagons and the stored water, and get out of here.

She shifts on her futon to look at Nahoko, a faintly visible dot two campfires to the left of her. She seems like a decent person, and Dororo doesn't like to think about harming her, even accidentally. These women are potential casualties in this conflict, and Dororo's been in the same spot too often not to feel sympathy.

Save the lives of innocent women, or Amagi? Or Hyakkimaru? Innocent women or Akiko? Or herself? Or Iwasa...She sighs. It seems wrong to put them in danger simply for being in the wrong place.

The sound of the crickets as the night air cools down is soothing; she finds it hard to stay awake. When she hasn't heard any sound but crickets and the fire crackling in the space of a thousand breaths, she gets to her feet, silent. She kicks off her warashi; they will be too loud, so she'll have to risk injuring her feet. She loosens her obi, retrieves one of her pouches of poison, and makes her way to the waterfall near the onsen.

Poisoning the pool beneath the waterfall is a good idea, but it's not sure enough; the pool is constantly fed with fresh water from above, so any poison in the pool will dilute fast. She'd do better poisoning the barrels of drawn water. She reaches the spot where the barrels were taken off, and follows their tracks in the dark, using her feet to trace the grooves to the place where they'd been taken.

Unfortunately for her, the grooves in the earth lead quite a bit deeper into the camp, where more men's campfires are. She scans the area, and from the look of things they are asleep, for the most part, but she can't see very well for all the trees. She keeps to her established path, and sees a wide red-brown tent in the middle distance. There is a black tent in front of it that smells like foulness and death.

"Lacquer," Dororo whispers as her eyes lock on the large earthen jugs outside the black tent. She hasn't encountered lacquer much in her travels, but she'd smelled it up-close once and never forgotten the experience. In addition to making goods and supplies shiny and more durable, in its raw form lacquer is an incredibly noxious, and lethal, poison. 

Sometimes she thinks she's got a god on her side.

She crouches low and retrieves a pot of lacquer from outside the black tent. She can hear people, at least two and possibly more, moving around inside the tent, but they do not react to her presence. 

Now all she needs to do is climb up to the next level of the camp to the red tent. While the lacquer tent and the tent for water and supplies are close horizontally, they are separated by an almost fifty-foot vertical climb; sensible, for protecting the water, and she can dimly see the pulley system they use to bring up barrels from below. If she had an ally up there, she could get to the red tent in seconds.

She has no allies here, so she will have to either go the long way and risk being spotted in camp, or climb. Somewhat regretfully, she abandons her pot of lacquer; she won't be able to hold it and climb at the same time. Then she finds a narrow path, something like a goat track, up to the next level. 

She hesitates before making the climb. She can clearly see light up there, which means there are either torch stands, or guards. She sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, silently. This is no time for backing out. She adjusts the covering over her face so that it hides everything but her eyes, and marches up the hill.

When she reaches the top, there are two torch-bearers. One appears half-dead on his feet, and the other has the flush heated aura of someone who's drunk far too much wine. The guard that isn't half-comatose hails her as she comes up the hill. She bows deeply as she approaches.

"No one allowed past camp lines after dark," he barks at her.

"I was just getting a drink of water," she says demurely, keeping her face down and covered.

"Pah." The man takes a step closer, and Dororo can smell cheap alcohol on his breath, along with the faint sweet odor of rot. What a charming fellow she's found. "As it turns out, I'm thirsty, too."

He grabs her arm. It goes against her instincts, but she goes limp instead of fighting; it isn't time to fight yet. With his free hand, the man tears off her face covering with an audible rip, and he gives her a smile full of missing teeth. "You got a name, missy?"

"Mio," she says, still looking down. 

"That's pretty," the man says, his voice slurred. "How 'bout you come with me? I can get you some water. If you pay for it. Heh." He removes his hand from her tattered face covering, and makes a clumsy move to grab her breast; deliberate shifting on her part makes him miss by a mile.

Dororo nods, then says, "Uh...we could, but what about your friend? Someone needs to guard the camp."

The guard blinks stupidly a few times, then looks over at his companion. "Oi!" the guard yells. "You gotta wake up, ya hear? Asakura-sama could come at any second!"

"Wha?" The other guard wakes up, eyes heavy-lidded, more than half-leaning against the pole of his torch. "'s he here yet?"

"No, but he will be," the drunk guard says. "I need you to stand watch for me real quick."

"Really, Kurou? Why? Got yourself a piece of ass?"

The drunk guard uses his wrenching grip on Dororo's arm to thrust her toward the sleepy guard. The sleepy guard's eyes widen briefly. "Fine, I'll watch the damn gate. You owe me."

Dororo lets out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, and lets the guard drag her toward the red tent where the water is stored. He shoves her through the front tent flaps. Unlike the lacquer tent, this one appears deserted, utterly dark save for moonlight peeking in through the tentpoles and the entrance.

Good. She can use the dark.

Before she can make a move toward the water barrels, Kurou's hands are suddenly and irritatingly everywhere: tugging at her obi, slipping inside her kimono, between her legs. She twists in his grip and he grunts, briefly letting her go; as soon as he does, she puts some distance between herself and the guard, crouching low between two stacks of supply crates.

"Oi! Where'd you get to, Mio-chan? I expect payment before you get water."

"I'm very sorry, Kurou-sama," she says, using her politest possible voice, "but I'm terribly thirsty."

She lifts the lid off the crate next to her with no difficulty and stands up. Kurou sees her and starts coming at her with all the force and subtlety of the battering ram, but she uses that to her advantage; as soon as he's within reach of her arm, she swings out with the lid of the crate.

It deals him a blow across the skull that doesn't make much noise; the edge of the lid is rounded. But the force is enough, for her purposes. Kurou takes two more staggering steps toward her, then falls directly onto her, unconscious.

"Well, that could have been worse," she mutters to herself as she catches her breath. Hopefully he won't remember anything come morning. He seems drunk enough.

She's still pinned underneath him. "Get off me," she grunts, and rolls over and up to her feet. She gets to the water barrels and empties two packets of Hitomi's very lethal poison into eight barrels; not all of them, but a significant share, and she wants to reserve Akiko's poison for the waterfall pool. 

She takes the precaution of slamming Kurou in the head with the crate lid again before leaving the tent, then retraces her steps past the sleepy guard. He's sleeping again.

It is only when she passes him that she remembers what Kurou had told him: Asakura-sama is coming. That can only mean Asakura Toshikage; he has no living sons, Hitomi is not expected to return here, and Dororo doesn't think the Asakura daughters would be military commanders anyway. Not that they couldn't be, but--well, if Hitomi's anything to judge by, the Asakura women are trained a lot differently than she'd been. 

Or wait, no--it must be Asakura Hiroto. Hitomi's uncle. Dororo remembers her saying that.

Regardless of which Asakura is coming, their absence explains why the army hasn't moved.

But where is Asakura Toshikage now? And why would he attack his own city?

She knows these questions are important, but there are too many blank spaces in her knowledge for her to so much as form a hypothesis. Suffice it to say that Asakura Toshikage is gone, and as long as he is gone, the army won't attack. That's a point in her favor; it's even possible that Iwasa will be able to intercept him before he gets here, if she's lucky. For now, her plan has held, and it is solid, and almost complete. 

She sneaks back to the place where she'd abandoned her lacquer jar and retrieves it, then heads back to the waterfall pool. She starts by pouring the entire bottle of lacquer into the pool, then tossing the container in. She removes Akiko's pouch of powdered poison, and adds that as well for good measure. Poisoning this pool may not help much, but she wants to seize every advantage she can before she runs. She straightens up, returns the empty poison pouches to her obi, and turns around.

Nahoko is standing some three yards away, staring directly at her with eyes that shine like shards of mica. "Dororo-san," she says, but she keeps her voice down. "What are you doing?"

"Nahoko," she whispers. "I--"

"I think I know," Nahoko says. "Are you a spy? A ninja? Someone sent to kill us?"

"What? No, no, nothing like that, please, I--"

"Give me one reason not to call the guard," Nahoko says. "I can't believe this. We helped you, fed you, and this is how you repay us?" she hisses, but she still keeps her voice down.

"Look," Dororo says, putting both hands up to demonstrate she's no threat. "I didn't come to kill you. I don't really want to kill anyone. But they're going to destroy Amagi." She sighs. "Asakura Hitomi sent me."

"Hitomi Asakura-sama?" Nahoko asks. "Why should I believe you?"

"She gave me this poison to kill the soldiers," Dororo says, retrieving Hitomi's pouch from her obi. It has the Asakura seal embroidered on it; hopefully that will be enough evidence for Nahoko.

Nahoko takes the pouch, looks it over, feels it. There is a long pause, and then she asks, "Why?"

Dororo tilts her head in confusion. "Why? Why what?"

"Why now?" Nahoko says. She drops to her knees with the pouch still in her hands. "Why now, with me like this--"

"Wait, what?" Dororo asks.

Nahoko looks up, and her face in the light of the moon is lined with tears. "I told you I would flee with you, if I could. Earlier. Now, with you here, sent by my lady, with her poison, would be the perfect time. If--if--"

"If--what?" Dororo asks. "You can come with me, if you want. I promise I'll keep you safe. I have friends; we'll help you--"

"No." Nahoko's voice is still quiet, but her tone is cold. She loosens her obi and yanks her kimono loose, revealing a swollen and distended belly and the nipple of one seeping breast. "I cannot run. Not now. I wish..." She looks at the sky, but doesn't say anything for a long while.

Nahoko is pregnant. Her husband is dead. Dororo thinks she's starting to understand Nahoko better.

"Then I'll come back for you," Dororo says, putting as much conviction into her voice as she can muster. "You have to stay here. I have to go, for now. But I'll be coming back, and I swear on my mother's grave that I will help you."

"Your mother--really is dead, then?"

"Yeah," Dororo says. "A long time ago. Still hurts."

"I expect it always will," Nahoko says. "Very well. I want to trust you, though that seems foolish. You must leave. I must remain. Beyond that, what else is there to be done?"

"Please," Dororo says, "just, no matter what you do, don't drink the water from the waterfall pool, or the barrels. Drink sake, drink from the river, don't drink at all, but--but please, don't drink that water."

"Dororo-san," Nahoko says, placing both hands over her heart and bowing slightly. "I thought we saved you, but perhaps you truly came to save me." She looks Dororo in the eyes. "I will warn the women. The ones who can be trusted, anyway. We will not drink the water."

Dororo nods rapidly. In a small voice that scarcely carries, she says, "Thank you."

Nahoko offers her a weak smile.

"Also, I may have, um, knocked out one of the guards when I was poisoning the barrels. He'll probably come to and be out for blood in a while. When he asks, please tell the truth. Don't endanger yourself. I want them to come after me.

"Oh, and if that guy doesn't wake up in an hour, could you report that I've escaped somehow? Raise a hue and cry or something?"

Nahoko's face goes bloodlessly white. "You want the army chasing after you?"

"More than anything else in the world, right now."

Nahoko shrugs a little. "I can't say I understand, Dororo-san. But I will do as you say."

Dororo nods in acknowledgment one more time, then takes off running, eager to find Akiko's signal markers. 

It's kind of remarkable how well this plan has gone, so far. She wonders if Hyakkimaru will be proud of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been less-than-well on the Ainikki home front. Let's just say I've had my fill of death and would like it to pass to someone else's house.
> 
> Writing this helps, but it's slow. I apologize for that.


	8. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where am I?" 
> 
> "The Asakura camp outside Amagi," she says matter-of-factly. "You're a war prisoner." Quietly, she adds, "Like me. What's your name?"
> 
> War prisoner. That's a new one. "Am I--alone? Are there others? Others that were brought in?"
> 
> "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that," she says in a cold and mechanical tone. She lifts the ladle to his mouth, and he gulps down soup as she whispers, "Three more. Two young women and an old man."
> 
> Three? He blinks. There should be four...had one gotten away? Or had Dororo or Akiko been killed, or Hitomi taken, or...
> 
> Too many possibilities. He needs to recover quickly so that he can investigate. He doubts he'll be allowed to do much investigating as a war prisoner, but he's also generally pretty good at cutting his way out of places, weaponless or not.
> 
> "What's your name?" the woman asks him again.  
>    
> "I'm Jukai," he says, using the first name that pops into his head. He's a war prisoner; his pouch has Daigo's seal on it; it's possible someone here might have heard his true name before. "This isn't where I'm supposed to be."

Somewhere along the route between the army camp and the forest clearing where she'd left Hyakki, Dororo develops a gradually intensifying jealousy of Akiko's wilderness education. 

All of her signals are placed in spots not easy to see from the road, but very easy to see along their agreed-upon route. Traps are clearly marked with ruts and grooves that would appear as part of the normal groundcover to ordinary passers-by, and there is no trace of footprints that Dororo can discern, which means Akiko had also managed to clear away signs of Hitomi's passage. Dororo is impressed, and she wants lessons.

The traps she discovers are three pit traps staked with fifteen or twenty poisoned spikes each, two rock-fall traps, and three groundcover traps that collapse into pits and ravines. It's not enough to stop an entire army, but it's definitely enough to slow them down. Hell, if enough of them succumb to the poison Dororo put in their supplies, it may be enough to stop them dead in their tracks.

She arrives outside the cave where Akiko and Hitomi have hidden a little past noon, barefoot, naked save for her borrowed muslin kimono and completely dehydrated, not to mention starving. 

She'd run as hard as she could to get here, and hadn't seen any signs of pursuit along the way. She doesn't find that idea comforting; Nahoko should have sent Asakura soldiers after her by now. She looks around herself thoroughly before entering the cave, then compresses her shoulders small and forces herself through the narrow opening of the entrance.

"Akiko?" she whispers. "It's me."

Akiko steps forward, a shadowy figure in the half-dark. Stalactites surround her on all sides, making it hard to identify her shape. "Glad to see you're alive," Akiko says. "I checked on Hyakkimaru this morning. Still breathing, still hidden. I think we should go back there, when we can--I got a message by bird that someone is waiting for us there."

Dororo nods sharply, and hopes that the person waiting is Iwasa, or one of his delegates. She peers over Akiko's shoulder to Hitomi, who is huddled in the back of the cave. "Are you all right, Hitomi-san?" she asks.

Hitomi shrugs and doesn't answer.

"She's been like that," Akiko says. Her expression is hard to read. "I don't know if it's the residual poison or the confinement, but she hasn't wanted to talk to me, either."

Dororo tries one more time: "Hitomi-san? We're here, you know. If you need us."

"I should never have left home," she says quietly. "I should have stayed home and gotten butchered with all the others."

Akiko tilts her head. "She's convinced herself that Amagi is already destroyed. It isn't, is it?"

"No," Dororo says quickly. "Asakura Hiroto hadn't arrived yet--last night. They're all waiting for him. With any luck, we'll be able to stop him before he gets there."

Hitomi looks up, a shaft of light from the cavemouth cutting her face in half with light and shadow. "So you're saying there's still a chance? To save them?"

"I wouldn't be here unless there were," Dororo says.

Hitomi stands up--or tries to, but she's too tall for the cave. "We should go, then," she says, "before it really is too late."

Akiko looks from her to Dororo. "Is it safe for us to move? Were you followed?"

Dororo nods. "It's safe, I think. I didn't see anyone following me."

"Figures," Akiko snorts. "All my hard work for nothing." She takes a step toward the entrance to the cave. "Well, if we're going, we should do it now. I still don't know who's waiting for us."

***

They reach the clearing where Hyakkimaru is hidden with the harsh heat of an afternoon summer sun blazing down upon them; new sweat sticks Dororo's kimono to her skin. She is pleased to find that Akiko had found time to add to and smooth out her work with the screen of leaves; she knows it's there and can barely see the edges of it when she approaches.

She lifts the screen. Hyakkimaru still lies prone and unconscious beneath it, sweating as badly as she is by the looks of it. Another hunched and ancient figure crouches close to him in the shade of the screen. 

It's not Iwasa--it's Biwamaru. His bald head and empty eye sockets gleam with sweat, and his smile lines are deeper than they were when Dororo saw them last.

Dororo grins from ear to ear. "I should have known he'd send you."

"Dororo-san," Biwamaru says, inclining his head with mild politeness. "It is good to meet you again."

Biwamaru makes his introductions to Hitomi, and offers them all dried strips of meat spiced with something Dororo can't identify. She and Akiko accept immediately, but Hitomi politely refuses. 

"You should drink something, too, Dororo," he says. "Seems to me your eyes are about to pop out out."

"They are? How can you tell?" She touches her face, but doesn't feel anything different about her eyes through the skin of her eyelids.

Akiko surveys her critically. "He's right. Take this." She hands Dororo a waterskin, mostly full, and Dororo unstoppers it and drinks. 

As she washes down jerky with water, she takes a look at the surrounding area for footprints or other signs of disturbance. "Have you seen anyone else around here, old man?" she asks Biwamaru between bites.

"Some, here and there," he says dismissively. "But more are coming. I'm not sure how many, but they'll probably be here at any time."

Dororo nods absently; the Asakura army coming is old news by now. 

Biwamaru hms. "This--covering won't keep us him hidden for very long. We have to move him."

Move him? "Why?"

Biwamaru pulls his lute sword free in a smooth motion. "I smell a demon."

Before he finishes talking, an arrow cuts through the air. Dororo dodges narrowly and Akiko jerkily moves--directly into the path of the arrow. It impacts her leg with a nasty sound, like metal going through bone.

To her credit, Akiko does not scream--but she's breathing heavily, sweaty and gritting her teeth hard.

Dororo immediately lowers the leaf screen around them all and focuses on making herself as small as possible. She can see in the dark--just--and thinks it's important to check the arrow wound and treat it before they run for better cover. Akiko won't be able to keep up otherwise.

"Where is Iwasa now?" Dororo whispers to Biwamaru. Dororo's hands find the arrow in the half-darkness, and she hears as well as feels Akiko's deep indrawn breath.

"A day behind us," Biwamaru says. "I got the message this morning."

"Then we're as good as dead," Akiko says.

"Don't--say that." Dororo rummages around in the dark, and her hand brushes against Hyakkimaru's leg. The sensation shocks her; she hadn't realized they were sitting so close to him. She supposes there's not a lot of room under the leaf cover; not if they're all going to hide together anyway. 

She finds what she's looking for on the ground: a flat level stick with a good amount of surface area. "All right, Akiko," she says, sliding the stick into her mouth. "You know the drill. Bite down." Akiko does. Her eyes gleam with tears in the low light, and Dororo hopes that the wound looks worse than it is.

She has to push the arrow through to break the arrowhead. But the arrow had found bone, so first she needs to pull it out a little way and redirect it--not a simple problem, and Akiko's eyes nearly roll back into her head several times during this process.

She manages to push the arrowhead through the leg and break the head. Akiko goes limp under her hands as she yanks the shaft out, but she doesn't make a sound. Dororo puts pressure on the wound with her palms and distantly hears the whizzing of several other arrows around and above her.

She looks up briefly to verify that no other arrows have found a mark. They haven't, which she considers odd; she can still hear the whine of arrows thunking into trees or spiraling to earth. 

Then she realizes Biwamaru has left the leaf cover, and it makes sense: Biwamaru, like Hyakkimaru, doesn't need sight to protect himself, or others. She's seen him cut flies in half before--he's more than capable of deflecting a few dozen arrows.

"I'll thank Iwasa for sending someone competent," she mutters over Akiko's injury. She asks Hitomi for a bandage, and Hitomi relays it to her in the dark. She wraps Akiko's leg as best she can, and lifts the edge of the leaf cover a bare inch to look at what Biwamaru is doing.

His lute sword is out. Arrows, mostly black and uniform, fly around him in groups of two or three. That means there are only two or three archers close enough to hit them. Dororo pulls Akiko's kodachi free of their sheathes and slides out of the leaf cover on her stomach, leaving the others concealed beneath it. She springs up instantly and sprints ahead of Biwamaru as fast as she can.

Arrows whiz around her now, fast and coming faster, but she can see them; she has some training as an archer, and like Biwamaru she can deflect any hit she can tell is coming. She hopes she's complicating matters for the archers by giving them a moving target in addition to Biwamaru--who has to remain stationary to protect the others.

Dororo reaches the first archer in less than twenty seconds; he's wearing an eboshi even in this heat and his armor is black and lacking insignia. A spy. He drops his bow as Dororo approaches and draws a wicked-looking curved dagger, but she doesn't give him the time to use it; she thrusts both her kodachi into his gut and up, hearing the sickening crack of ribs breaking as she digs through flesh, lungs, bone.

An arrow grazes her arm--it cuts fully through her right tricep, and she winces in pain. She pulls her twin kodachi free, not bothering to clean them (sorry, Akiko) and runs in the direction of the hit, to the right of her some sixty or seventy feet or so. She sees the next archer, a woman with a horribly burned face, but she doesn't have time for sympathy when her life is in danger.

This archer is better than the last one, or perhaps luckier; she manages to get one more arrow off at close range, and it grazes the line of Dororo's hip and bounces off. It hurts like hell, and Dororo develops an instant limp, but it doesn't stop her; she's on the woman in a moment, and though she tries for a beheading it turns more into a sloppy vertical cut-in-half job. She has the odd thought as she's sawing through the bone at the base of the woman's neck that Hyakkimaru wouldn't be so sloppy.

She is covered in blood--some of it her own--when she starts searching for the third archer. The forest around her has gone quiet, and the rain of arrows has stopped. 

Biwamaru calls behind her: "Dororo!"

She doesn't answer back. She doesn't want to give away her position. She puts up her kodachi and takes slow careful steps, trying to minimize the sound of her footfalls as she moves through the trees. Her eyes scan the area in all directions, but she doesn't see anything. Her left hip and leg hurt horridly. She can hear blood pounding to and through them as she moves, angry red and swollen, but she doesn't have time for it. There's at least one more of them out here--

Then, another call from Biwamaru, louder this time: "Dororo! Where are you?"

Rather than answer, she spins on her left heel and jerks herself into a run so painful she has to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. If Biwamaru is calling for help, he's probably outnumbered--which means the archers had been a trap, designed to lure her and any other fighters out of hiding.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. She can't help being the first person to get involved in a fight; it's in her nature, and had almost gotten her killed countless times as a child. She should really learn to stay with others in situations like this. She hears Biwamaru call out to her again, and he's close this time; she slows her pace and darts from tree to tree, seeking cover and doing her best to identify enemy numbers and placement.

There are a fair number of them--six, seven, maybe more--some archers, some carrying guns, others carrying swords. They are arranged in a loose arc in front of Biwamaru; none of them have seen her yet.

She lifts the leaf cover because she needs Akiko to help fight this and Akiko needs a weapon, and immediately feels an arrow pierce her back near the top of her spine. She falls to her knees, gasping and stunned.

Akiko looks up at her with an expression of horror. From far away, she hears Biwamaru shouting her name, shouting something else she doesn't quite catch. Adrenaline heightens her senses for a few moments and gives her enough presence of mind to thrust the two kodachi at Akiko. Then she feels another sharp pain, under her ribs, like heat and metal, and collapses down so far that she's on her hands and knees, hovering inches above Hyakkimaru's still body.

"Gods damn it," she gasps, "where are you when I need you?" But that's not fair. He'd gotten in this state saving Hitomi from a poisoner; he had saved her life countless times before that. 

Before she collapses next to Hyakkimaru in pain and dehydration, she comforts herself with the idea that she gets to die with friends. Given the trend of her life, she can imagine worse fates for herself.

***

Hyakkimaru jerks awake when something heavy lands on him from above. The back of his throat is abraded and he's sweated through his kimono, but the discomfort of his waking is overshadowed by what--or rather, who--has landed on him.

Dororo had fallen on him with her arms outstretched in a gesture of protection. There's an arrow in her back, and her breath comes in ragged bursts; he's not entirely sure she's conscious, but at least she's alive. In front of her, on his left-hand side, he sees Akiko's bloody kodachi, as well as Akiko herself; Hitomi is crouched behind her. Hitomi's face is blurry to him; the lighting is indistinct, as if they're sitting in a cave somewhere.

He takes all of this in in a matter of seconds as battle-readiness wipes out all residual pain and fatigue. Dororo and Akiko are down. Hitomi cannot fight using traditional methods. So hang poisoning, and weakness; he doesn't need health or strength; he can live without them somehow. Like it or not, he's all they have left. 

He springs to his feet, dislodging Dororo; he grips the blood-slippery kodachi in his hands and stands fully, shifting some kind of leaf shade above him as he moves. His spine feels like it's on fire; he remembers getting it back from Mamai Onba and how much it had burned then but this could be worse.

All the pain does is help him focus.

His vision is still terrible, half real sight and half red-white shapes like his old familiar demon sense; he is able to identify enemies but little else. Lacking the strength or time for finesse, he brandishes his kodachi more like hammers than swords, freeing himself from the leaf cover and making wide heavy slashes in the air surrounding him.

A man in front of him goes down. Another is charging him, but his arms feel heavy; too heavy to ready one of his double-slashes in time. He hears something whiz past his ear and thinks _arrows_ before something collides with him, heavy enough to bring him down.

He looks up and half-sees, half-feels the warm white-lighted soul of Biwamaru. The old man helps him to his feet, but he stumbles again; on one knee, he turns to face one more blur of red and black and hurls a kodachi at it as hard as he can.

Someone is shaking his shoulder. It's Dororo. Her eyes are huge and round, her expression something like it was the first time he'd seen her: exhausted and awed. "Thank the buddha you're all right."

He drops his remaining kodachi, collapses flat onto his face, and is unconscious before he hits the ground.

***

Hyakkimaru comes to with cotton in his mouth and the sensation that something has gone terribly wrong.

Someone lifts water to his lips, and he drinks it. There's something bitter in the taste that he can't place, and he spits it out.

"Not going down easy, I see," an old woman says. He blinks his vision clear and sees her crinkled face above him. Another woman, younger, crouches next to him with another vessel full of water and pours a few drops of it into his half-open mouth. It tastes fine.

"I'll take care of this one," the younger woman says primly to the older one. "Will you take care of the others for me, mistress?"

The old woman shrugs like she doesn't care, and recedes from Hyakkimaru's sight line like a bad dream. The other woman keeps feeding him water in small sips until he tries sitting up; then she sets the water aside and brings up a bowl of steaming soup and a ladle.

"Where am I?" he asks before she can try feeding him. Hunger doesn't feel as urgent as knowing where he is.

"The Asakura camp outside Amagi," she says matter-of-factly. "You're a war prisoner." Quietly, she adds, "Like me. What's your name?"

War prisoner. That's a new one. Briefly, he evaluates his injuries: two shallow cuts to his arms where he'd made contact with attackers in his reckless battle to save Dororo and Akiko, stinging knees from when he'd collapsed; residual weakness from the poison: nothing worse. He looks up at the woman holding the soup bowl. "Am I--alone? Are there others? Others that were brought in?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you that," she says in a cold and mechanical tone. She lifts the ladle to his mouth, and he gulps down soup as she whispers, "Three more. Two young women and an old man."

Three? He blinks. There should be four...had one gotten away? Or had Dororo or Akiko been killed, or Hitomi taken, or...

Too many possibilities. He needs to recover quickly so that he can investigate. He doubts he'll be allowed to do much investigating as a war prisoner, but he's also generally pretty good at cutting his way out of places, weaponless or not. He looks critically at the woman helping him and wonders...well, why she'd bother. The old woman had given him water with something wrong added to it; maybe poison, maybe something to make him talk, but this one seems honest. 

"What's your name?" the woman asks him again.  
  
"I'm Jukai," he says, using the first name that pops into his head. He's a war prisoner; his pouch has Daigo's seal on it; it's possible someone here might have heard his true name before. "This isn't where I'm supposed to be."


	9. Prisoners

Dororo wakes up with the taste of blood in her mouth and a dull throb in her leg. There's a sharp pain at the top of her back, between her shoulder and her spine, and she feels too hot.

Her wounds are infected; that's obvious. She tries to sit up and manages to get to her elbows before all commands to her body shut down and leave her frozen in that position, white-blind with pain. Someone eases her back down, and she asks, "Where--?"

"Outside Amagi," Biwamaru says to her. "In a camp for war prisoners. We're captives."

"How?" she asks. Her vision gradually improves to normal, with some blurry edges; Biwamaru appears to be unhurt, so she she doesn't understand how they've been captured.

"Consider yourself lucky to be taken instead of killed outright," he says with a faint smile. "They recognized Daigo's mon on your clothes. Hyakkimaru's too, I'm sure, but I haven't found him yet. I think they either killed him or took him to another place in camp for serious wounds."

Killed him. Hyakkimaru.

No: impossible.

She tries to sit up again and gets the same result as before: elbow support and instant pain. She collapses to her back and breathes. "So--what do we do?"

"You should be able to move in a day or two," he says. "I'll keep looking for Hyakkimaru, Akiko and Hitomi. We'll either find them and escape, or die in the attempt. I don't see many other options."

"What about Iwasa? Couldn't he rescue us?"

Biwamaru hms thoughtfully. "It's an idea, but I doubt it. I can't believe I have to ask this, but can you--see--at all? Do you realize where you are, exactly?"

No, she doesn't. She hadn't taken a good look at where she was when she first opened her eyes, and pain has been interfering with her vision ever since. Slowly, carefully, moving only her head, she opens her eyes and looks around.

Corpses. Corpses and sleeping forms, spaced a few feet apart as far as her eye can see: men, women, children: all are exposed, most wearing rags, with no bedding or blankets. She can tell the corpses from the sleeping people by the rise of their chests (or lack thereof) and the severity of their physical injuries, but there is not much of a corpse smell--which means these people must have recently died.

The rows of people are neat and even, lined up head-to-toe on either side of her. A few tents--essentially just elevated tarps to keep off rain--cover the line of bodies in some places, but for the most part what Dororo sees is open to the air. She squints, and sees some kind of demarcation line; it's painted blue and black, and she faintly sees the symbol for Chinese medicine done in the same paint colors on a sign made of rough cloth. 

This is a field hospital. It's a bad one, judging by the ratio of corpses to patients; if she had to guess, about half of the people surrounding her are dead. Also, she doesn't see a doctor, which may have something to do with the general state of things.

"Why didn't you fight?" she asks Biwamaru quietly. "Why didn't you save us?"

"I was knocked out by some kind of sedative, in a dart," Biwamaru says. "When I came to, we were separated. I am sorry."

Dororo shakes her head and immediately regrets it as the front of her skull screams at her to stay still. None of this is Biwamaru's fault. "All these people," she mutters, thinking. "Yeah, it would be tough for Iwasa to find us. Damn it. Why are there so many--"

It hits her like a punch to the gut, and suddenly the throbbing of her wounds intensifies. "Amagi was already attacked," she says. "It's--gone. We're too late to save anyone."

Biwamaru sighs. "Not--exactly. I heard from some of the patrols that a lot of men died on the march here--fallen in traps, poisoned, that sort of thing. Amagi still stands, but it's under siege. These people are the dead and wounded from the battle."

Huh. So her and Akiko's work had accomplished something after all. Maybe she'd fallen in a pit trap and that's why she feels this way. Or got hit on the head with a rock or something. She remembers the snipers that had landed their marks on her and lets out a brief groan of agony. Stupid, stupid, stupid, charging them head-on like that; she's lucky she's not dead.

Dororo pushes herself onto her side and props her head up, because somehow that hurts less than lying prone; she can also see better from this position. "Can you get me some food and water? I don't think I've had anything since...since I got here."

Biwamaru nods. "I will see what I can do. Fortunately they still think I'm harmless."

***

Whatever they're feeding Hyakkimaru is laced with sedatives to keep him quiet, and he experiences a range of emotions related to this: anger and exasperation, chiefly, but also a muted form of respect, because it's like someone knew what they were doing when they captured him. It's not comforting, exactly, but a stubborn part of himself likes a challenge. 

In some ways forced sedation reminds him of one of his fighting states: the meditative calm he experiences when he's gravely injured. Time slows, allowing him to take in every detail of his environment. Interesting for calming chemicals to create this effect in him, instead of adrenaline. 

Also--maybe it would be kind to tell his captors this?--his current level of sedation is nowhere near enough to actually slow him down.

He is reluctant to attack them, however, since it seems he's been placed in a camp of all women, with only a few fellow injured soldiers. As far as he can tell he's the only clear Asakura enemy here. He sleeps with the other prisoners in long row near a line of fires, somewhat high up on a sloped hill in the middle of the woods. There's a waterfall nearby; he hasn't seen it yet but he suspects he will when he and his fellow captives are well enough to be bathed.

He hears it, though: a roar of cacophonous water. It sets some escape ideas in motion, but he doesn't have much leeway to think about those yet. Not until he finds the others.

He looks over at the man who sleeps next to him, a merchant pirate by the name of Sakuzou. He's missing a leg and, it seems, an eye. He doesn't talk much, his breath is awful and he snores, but when he's awake he's amiable enough, likely because he has no idea who Hyakkimaru is.

"Yo, Jukai," Sakuzou says. "How'd you sleep?"

"Awful," he says, and it's true. He wakes up every few hours to vomit, and shakes almost constantly; Hitomi's poison has been far more harmful to him than any of the gentler drug manipulations his captors are currently using on him. He's calmer now, though, than he was before waking up in an adrenaline-fueled rage. Since regaining consciousness under the leaf cover in the forest, he has not dreamed at all that he remembers.

"Sorry, Sensei," Sakuzou says. "I shouldn'ta asked."

Sakuzou likes to nickname people. To him, Hyakkimaru is 'Sensei,' a thin man whose bones look hollow is 'Sparrow,' and a man that appears to have more muscle and fat than his frame can properly support is called 'Earthquake.' Hyakkimaru doesn't really get it, but apparently his accent is considered cultured around here, his use of the samurai register notwithstanding.

Sakuzou resists being nicknamed by anyone, but privately Hyakkimaru thinks of him as 'Rat.' The glint in his eyes is a mix of greed and terror. If anyone's a spy in this camp, it's him.

His captors are generally an odd bunch. Nahoko seems to actively encourage him to try and escape, so he figures that she's some kind of trap as well. He's seen tiny stooped-over Suzuki put some kind of powder in the soup for the war prisoners. Kyouko walks around in very little clothing, seemingly by choice. Most of the other women do as they're directed by Suzuki, demurely looking down whenever they do something to displease her.

Nahoko is the most solicitous of the lot, and it's largely thanks to her that what he eats is less adulterated than what the others eat. When he'd asked her why his treatment differs, she'd pointed to the pouch attached to his obi with a little frown.

"Oh," he'd said. Daigo's crest is protecting him here. It may have protected his life when he'd been captured. He had nodded at her to indicate his understanding. 

That piece of information had also told him something else: none of the other men are from Kaga, and none of them have high diplomatic status. 

"I heard we're getting meat today," Sukuzou says to him. "And a bath."

"Who told you that?" he asks, though his main interest is in seeing if the waterfall connects to a larger body of water.

"The pretty one."

He frowns. "You mean Nahoko?"

"The other pretty one."

Kyouko. He hasn't seen her much. She's young, and clean, but there's a sharp sourness to her expression that he instinctively distrusts. She almost certainly doesn't want to be taking care of people...which makes him wonder why she's here.

"You have...unusual taste in women."

Sakuzou gives him a grin that displays all of his teeth, including his missing ones, to great advantage. "And you, Sensei, are blind. C'mon. Get up and help me walk, would ya? I want to get some soup before it gets cold."

***

Biwamaru comes back to Dororo with a clear cold bucket of water and roasted fish, no salt, also cold. Dororo gulps down water and inhales fish like she's starved--she likely is--and her eyes track a figure behind Biwamaru, limping so badly that she even stands lopsided.

Akiko.

She stumbles down next to Dororo, catching herself on her arms with her bad leg extended. Biwamaru passes her a bandage that appears to be clean. Akiko cups water in her hands from another bucket and rubs it on the still partway open wound on her leg, grimacing and cursing all the while.

Biwamaru towers over them, appearing like some sort of Buddha or sage, and Dororo wonders suddenly how old he is. Very old, to be sure; he was even when they met, and very wise, but the idea of needing his care irks her. She feels like she owes him a life of quiet retirement, not this continuously perilous existence.

"You're staring," Biwamaru says. "Is there something on my face?"

Dororo shakes her head, and that movement hurts less now than it did this morning. "I was just thinking about buying up one of those secluded little mountain villas for you. So you can retire in peace."

He chuckles, a low reverberating sound, and tilts his head up so that the sunlight catches and holds on his bald forehead. "I'm not ready to retire yet. But when I am, I'll hold you to that." He bends down and helps Akiko better support her bad leg in a seated position, then scans it over with his second sight. "We need more water. I'll get it."

"Still no sign of him?" Akiko asks as Biwamaru turns to go. 

"I'm sorry, child. None."

Akiko hangs her head, looking for all the world like a dog that failed its master--or a daughter that failed her family. It's an odd look on her, and Dororo hasn't considered the idea that Akiko sees Hyakkimaru as a parent figure, because that's not how she sees him at all. He hadn't even bothered to roast fish when they'd met, and she'd still bet money that he eats most things raw.

"We'll find him," Dororo says.

Akiko nods and looks at her. "Maybe. I wasn't sure you pulled through, either. And I don't know where Hitomi went--it's like she vanished."

"Did Biwamaru look for her?" Dororo asks.

"Of course," Akiko says dismissively, "but wherever she is, she's not in the normal camp. Biwamaru told me there's the women's camp--that's where you stayed a few days ago, I think--and the general's camp, in addition to the normal army camp, but he hasn't had time to search them thoroughly yet." Akiko rubs the crusted blood surrounding the raw wound on her thigh and inhales sharply. "Even if this didn't hurt like holy hell, I'm glad it's him searching and not me."

"Why? Wouldn't two people make the search faster?"

She shakes her head. "It's a nightmare out there." She unsheathes her kodachi from her back--only one; she must have lost the other--and says, "I killed four of them that wanted to rape me, and cut off limbs of quite a few more before the rest of 'em let me be." She looks around this camp of the dead and dying, and snorts. "Diplomatic status has its uses, I guess."

Dororo closes her eyes. "I'm glad you killed them, anyway."

"I'm not," Akiko says with a sour expression. "I hate killing people. Even though they always deserve it."

Dororo hms to herself. Akiko might be a better person than she is. If anyone tried to assault her in this state, she would kill them cheerfully and mercilessly at the nearest opportunity. Twice, if possible.

"Anyway," Akiko says, "I like it better here. It smells better. And if three of us are alive, the rest of us might be, too." She pauses, then looks Dororo directly in the eye. "Right?"

Dororo had set aside the possibility of Hyakkimaru being dead at the outset, not because the possibility wasn't there, but because it was likely. He had attacked and killed soldiers while already tottering on the brink of death by poisoning and dehydration. If anyone could live through that, it's him, but she's also fairly sure that stronger men than him have died under less extreme circumstances.

Her father, for example.

Dororo nods at Akiko, but something inside her breaks. For all that they're almost the same age, Akiko is so much younger than she is. 

***

Hyakkimaru is afforded a closer look at Kyouko before long, but it's not a view he especially enjoys.

Kyouko supports him as they climb the crude stone steps that lead up to the entrance of an onsen. The waterfall Hyakkimaru has been hearing is clearly visible from this height, and he openly stares at it, tracking its path up and down, trying to see which direction it flows toward: the Aogumi river, or one of the mountain lakes?

He, Sakuzou and Sparrow, the effete man whose real name Hyakkimaru doesn't know, are in the first batch of bathers; Nahoko supports Sparrow while an older woman with a scar on her neck helps Sakuzou. They enter the onsen, which is a large deep pool tinged faintly yellow: sulfur, Hyakkimaru thinks. Good for the joints.

Suddenly, Hyakkimaru feels Kyouko pull his kimono from his shoulders from behind and push him into water so hot it's almost scalding. He stumbles, nearly falls because he wasn't expecting roughness--isn't he supposed to be an invalid?--but he recovers, and when he does Kyouko is standing directly in front of him with her own clothing soaked to the waistline and entirely open in the front, revealing her breasts. She must have pitched forward when she ripped his kimono off.

"What are you--?" And he stops, gasps, because her hands are under the water, reaching, until they slip around his cock. It's not hard, and when she notices that she pouts like a spoiled brat, and that's all the reaction time he needs to tear her wrists away from him with both hands and gasp out, "Do that again, and I'll break your arms." Then he picks her up and throws her bodily out of the sulfur pool.

Kyouko lands on her feet--barely--at the edge of the pool and glares at him. Hyakkimaru is breathing heavily. Kyouko hadn't been heavy, but his heart is pounding like there's an actual threat, and while he's certain he can fight in this condition, he doesn't know how much he'll have to pay for it later if he tries.

Nahoko finishes settling Sparrow along the edge of the pool; she hadn't clearly seen what happened. When she hears the slosh of water as Kyouko forcibly exits the pool and notices the accompanying spray of water, she is briefly stunned. She looks to Kyouko and asks, "Is everything all right?"

"He needed help undressing," she says, but her voice shakes. "I think he--got the wrong idea."

Hyakkimaru lacks the capacity to be shocked anymore. He'd lost it somewhere between Tahoumaru attacking him at Banmon with a demon's help and burning his father's palace down. He still did not, and could not, expect Kyouko to be so shameless.

Hyakkimaru looks to Nahoko for--he's not sure what. Help? An explanation?--and Kyouko leaves the onsen with a little huff, drawing up her wet clothes around her shoulders. When she leaves, Nahoko comes with soap and a bucket to clean his shallow gut wound, and he asks her outright: "Uh, I'm sorry but...what was that?"

She smiles demurely. "You don't know? She seemed to think you--wanted something from her."

Nahoko brushes sweaty hair out of his eyes, and everything in him freezes as if in preparation for a full-body flinch. Nahoko, realizing that something is still amiss, backs away from him completely. "Jukai? What is it?"

"I--I don't know--" All right. It's not like he's entirely ignorant of attraction and sex. He and Iwasa have talked about Kaguya's low-level flirting (mainly, how jealous Iwasa is of it, and how little Hyakkimaru understands it). He's lived in nature long enough to know how sex and reproduction work between animals. But sex has never been a part of his life. Most of his body had been artificial and vaguely monstrous up until a decade or so ago; no one had bothered to flirt with him then, and he misses the easy simplicity of that. But now--

Slowly, deliberately, he grits out, "You need to make sure that never happens again."

Nahoko looks him in the eye. Her hands don't move back to the soap or bucket; she is not touching him. "Jukai. Are you telling me the truth? I promise you won't get in trouble for playing with Kyouko..."

"Gods damn it, that wasn't _play._ If she tries it again, I'll kill her." Maybe harsh, but he knows it's true as he says it. For him, touch has almost always been associated with threat. Kyouko hadn't even asked permission before--

Nahoko's eyes widen, then narrow in sudden understanding. "Are you married, Jukai?"

"Yes," he says, and it's not even that much of a lie. He's lived a life committed to his goals and the larger goal of saving others from war. Sex would have been a distraction at best, but unwelcome sexual advances are--something else. This situation makes him feel disgusted with himself--even though he's clean, at least physically. What had he done to get this treatment? Until today, he had never so much as spoken to Kyouko before--merely observed her sour expression in passing as she'd helped other men dress and eat. He had wondered about her poor attitude, but--had he caused it, somehow? Did he bring this on himself, in his ignorance?

Nahoko picks up her rag again, and sighs. "It seems that Kyouko has a crush on you. Foolish girl, flirting with war prisoners. And married ones, at that. I'll talk to her." Nahoko offers him a fond smile. "You're shy. It's sweet. Better than the ones who are all hands, anyway." She resumes cleaning the shallow wound above his belly button.

Nahoko's touch feels less threatening than Kyouko's. She's not interested in him, not like that, and he's relieved and grateful to her because this is new and strange to him and--

But, no, he's remembering wrong. Dororo had sometimes told him he'd missed cues from women, in her own clumsy way. Okawa had tried rushing into marriage with him, even lacking arms or eyes. Some demons had tried to reason with him, using charisma or allure as a trick. He remembers, but he doesn't catalogue those experiences in a sexual way; it feels too alien, too apart from himself.

The only thing he's ever had to do to maintain sexual health is take care of morning reflex erections, which Jukai had told him about in a calm, inflexible, businesslike manner: all doctor, and Hyakkimaru suspects they are alike in that: too committed to their own life's path to be distracted by sex. In any case, even those erections have become fewer and less bothersome to deal with as he's aged. He has wondered idly if women experience something analogous, but he's never had anyone to ask, and the idea of asking about it also feels strange to him.

Nahoko had called him shy, but he's not sure that's right, either. He's ignorant of this part of human experience, and he's not even sure he wants to know more. Certainly, he doesn't want Kyouko teaching him anything.

Nahoko does talk to Kyouko, and the other women. It is decided among them that Hyakkimaru will bathe alone, out of respect for his injuries and his preferences, with one attendant to wait outside the onsen.

Nahoko really is the solicitous one.

***

Biwamaru finishes searching the general's camp the next morning. He brings cold rice and more water for breakfast; nothing else. During the night some of the other wounded and dying had approached them for water, so Biwamaru had stayed up half the night for them, bringing water and more food when he could find it. 

By daybreak they've converted the field hospital into something like a refugee camp, but there's not enough of anything to go around. Dororo manages to get up and walk for short periods, so she can help with resource distribution, but everyone, including Biwamaru, tells her that it is too dangerous for her to wander the camp outside alone.

"Fine," she says to him the third time they run out of water. "I'll wander with you, then."

"Take my weapon," Akiko says. Her leg is black-blue, purple-red where the arrow was yanked out, and the edges of the wound are swollen yellow with pus no matter how hard they try to scrub it out. "You'll need it."

It turns out Dororo doesn't need it, because whenever they see anyone Biwamaru pretends to be lame, and she pretends to support him. Apparently the sight of them is pathetic enough for them to be allowed to pass unscathed. It looks like Biwamaru is guiding her to a spot near the waterfall where she'd said goodbye to Nahoko, but when they get close he turns off and takes a thin path--probably made by goats or mountain monkeys; it is almost too steep for her to climb successfully in her condition--to a pool of water hissing steam.

"There's an onsen in a cave a little higher up the mountain," he says. "But this is the overflow. It's already hot, so it should make good water for injuries. We can put cold water in the other bucket for drinking." 

"Good thinking." Biwamaru draws hot water into his bucket, and they descend on the goat path. They are about halfway down the path, fairly well hidden by scrub and trees, when they hear voices.

Biwamaru gestures for her to get down, and she does: chest to the dirt. She creeps forward cautiously and peers through gaps in the underbrush, trying to get a better look at who is approaching.

She sees six or seven people total; it's hard to tell exactly because several people are supporting others. They are approaching the mouth of a cave, treading on stone platforms like steps, and she supposes this must be the onsen Biwamaru told her about. She squints closer and sees--

Wait. She blinks, and blinks again. Red-black hair. Daigo's pouch; she'd know it anywhere, the design is distinctive and the thread is barely hanging on. The woman supporting him is one she vaguely recognizes, and the queue is being led by Nahoko. "Nahoko has Hyakkimaru," she whispers.

"Hush," Biwamaru says. She remembers where she is and keeps quiet. They wait for the procession to pass, and descend the mountain, drawing a bucket of cold water at the waterfall. 

Dororo waits until they're away from water so sound doesn't carry. They are in their fake helping position, each carrying a bucket of water as Dororo pretends to support Biwamaru, and she whispers, "They have him. He's alive."

"You saw him?"

"Yes. At the onsen."

He is silent. They get back to the field hospital, and Dororo tells Akiko where Hyakkimaru is as she pours hot water onto her leg and removes the pus around the wound. "Thank the buddha," Akiko says. 

"Don't thank him yet," Biwamaru says. "We still haven't found Hitomi, and we have no way to getting to Hyakkimaru yet."

A child totters over to drink water from the cold-water bucket, and Biwamaru produces jerky from inside his uwagi and hands some to him. He smiles, revealing too-big baby teeth. "Where is your mother?" he asks, scanning the crowd.

"Dead," Akiko says. "His name's Shinichi. Nice kid. Dad was a soldier. Mom got taken away yesterday. He's four."

Shinichi holds up four fingers on his right hand.

Dororo is once again torn between conflicting priorities. Saving Hyakkimaru and Hitomi (if possible) is paramount, but she's also committed to looking for an avenue to help these people. She owes them that much.

She looks over the edges of Akiko's leg injury critically. They are red and raw and faintly bleeding, but the leg itself is much less swollen than before. As she looks at the injury, the idea strikes her, and she says: "Hey, Biwamaru, can you help me carry Akiko?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I think I know how to get to Hyakkimaru."

***

Hyakkimaru goes to sleep after his first night of bathing alone, with Sakuzou on one side and Earthquake on the other. "Heard you rejected Kyouko," Earthquake grunts at him. "She's talking about cutting her hair. You're a mean bastard."

"Yeah. I guess." He's seen men and women cut their hair after a heavy loss or defeat, but he doesn't think what he'd done to Kyouko merits something that drastic. "Absolutely heartless."

"Or a eunuch?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he says quietly, reflecting briefly on the idea that his penis is the only body part of his that hasn't been involved with limb loss or body horror in some way.

Earthquake leaves him alone after a while, and after some additional shocked haranguing from Sakuzou, the camp goes quiet. Hyakkimaru stays awake, listening to the loud snores surrounding him on either side.

"I don't blame you, you know," another voice says out of the dark.

Sparrow. It must be.

"I don't need you to validate my decisions."

Sparrow snorts. "I'm sure you don't. But I figured I'd tell you get it. She's a viper, that one. You're better off staying as far away as possible."

"Sounds like you speak from experience."

"Well..." No reply for a short while. "Forget it. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Hyakkimaru rolls over in his bedroll carefully, bringing him closer to Sparrow. "So tell me."

"Why?"

Hyakkimaru hms. "I'll tell you something else, that's equally unbelievable--but true."

Sparrow snorts. "I already know your name's not Jukai. That's not his family's crest you're wearing."

"I can serve another clan and not display family mon," Hyakkimaru says neutrally.

"True," Sparrow says, "but the only Jukai I ever knew was a Chinese doctor, and sad to say, Sensei, but you look nothing like him."

Hyakkimaru flinches. He hadn't known Jukai was Chinese, but that doesn't really matter to him. "Tahoumaru. That's my name." The name his mother had given him, before his poor younger brother had gotten stuck with it.

"Is it? I wonder." Sparrow looks at him with gleaming eyes that catch the light in the dark. "Well, it doesn't really matter at this stage. Who you are, I mean." He doesn't speak for a minute. Then he says, "Kyouko is--was--my cousin's wife. Before the war. So I know how she acts."

"Your cousin is married to her?" Hyakkimaru is skeptical. Kyouko seems too young to be married to anyone, and Sparrow's story is too pat, too convenient--like he's trying to get on Hyakkimaru's good side.

Sakuzou stirs in his sleep and turns over, and both Hyakkimaru and Sparrow are both deathly quiet for a while until his breath evens out. Hyakkimaru lets his breathing come out in an irregular pattern, to make Sakuzou think he's still asleep.

"You're lying to me, aren't you?" Hyakkimaru asks after a long while.

Sparrow lifts himself up so that he can lean in closer and whisper, "How could you tell?"

"You don't sound like you believe what you're saying." He's always been good at distinguishing truth from lies, but he doesn't fully understand the mechanism that makes his ability work.

"You and I...have a lot in common," Sparrow says. 

"How so?"

Another pause. "Tell me your real name and I'll tell you mine."

Hyakkimaru sighs. "Fine--you first."

"Fine," Sparrow says. "My name is Kurakawa Kouhei. Kurakawa Yamoto is my cousin; that part's not a lie. If you are who I think you are, I came to rescue you." He laughs quietly, and it's a harsh and self-deprecating sound. "My mother also hails from the northern Takeda clan, so it looks like I'll be disappointing two family members. I hope they forgive me."

"So Iwasa sent you," Hyakkimaru says. "Or--not Kurakawa?" Kurakawa had always hated him on some level; he finds it hard to believe the man would want to help him under any circumstances.

Kouhei shrugs. "He told me to tell you he doesn't take it personally. Any of what's happened between you two, I mean."

"Hm." So Sparrow is a ranking diplomat after all--but not one from Kaga; he'd never met him there. Maybe he can use this, somehow?

They are quiet for a while as this revelation sinks in. Hyakkimaru processes it slower than he would like; his stomach clenches around an involuntary convulsion and he wonders, not for the first time, if the poison is ever going to be out of his system. 

"You're not going to tell me your name, then?" Kouhei asks after a while.

"You know who I am."

"I suppose I do," he says. "So that means you have a plan to get us out of here, right? Because this place ain't bad, not yet, but there's--"

"Be quiet," Hyakkimaru cuts him off. "I hear something."

And he does: two voices, maybe three, arguing about something and getting closer.

"We were supposed to attack yesterday," one grumbles. His words are slurred; he sounds drunk.

"It won't affect the outcome," another says, sounding considerably more sober. "Just make it more interesting."

"Executions first," a third man says, and Hyakkimaru's stomach tightens again. This is the first he's hearing about executions. It's possible this place is just a transition point from here to a gallows--or, if they're a bit more merciful, a beheading.

"Hiroto-sama has given the command."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

"So it seems."

The voices keep arguing points of protocol: where and when to meet, which commanders to inform, but Hyakkimaru only distantly pays attention to all that because the timing is the most important thing here.

"Think they'll kill us?" Sparrow asks.

"I think they'll try," he says.

"So you do have a plan."

Not really, but sort of. He'd feel better about all this if he could find Dororo, Biwamaru, Akiko and Hitomi. Especially Hitomi, because if they're setting up for executions, she could well be in line for a beheading herself.

Tomorrow night. There's going to be an attack tomorrow night.

He needs to start seriously considering his escape options, which means he needs a closer look at that waterfall. Kyouko had pushed him inside the onsen before he'd gotten a proper look, and after that he'd been so distracted that he'd forgotten to look at it on the way back down.

"Where are you going?" Sparrow hisses at him as he gets to his feet.

"To get water," he says. It's true--but it's not the whole truth.

Navigating back to the mountain path that leads to the onsen does not take much time. He can see the waterfall as he climbs, and its dull roar minimizes the sound of his footfalls as he looks for signs of people passing--one person in particular.

Hyakkimaru finds footprints a few dozen meters outside the onsen, along with all-too-familiar signs of a cane. Biwamaru is here--or he was recently, anyway. He climbs up the rough stone steps to the onsen itself to check for more tracks. He sees some, faint, and crouches down; there is no one here at this time of night, but he would still prefer not to be seen.

He hears voices--voices coming from outside the onsen. He flattens himself against the ground near the cavemouth and calls, "Who's there?"

"Hyakkimaru?" Dororo whispers. The sound carries clearly over the stone.

"Dororo?"

"Yes!" she calls out with the same intonation of a cry of victory. "I'm a genius!"

She comes into view inside the entrance to the onsen, and Hyakkimaru can faintly see her, Biwamaru, and Akiko. Akiko's hair is wet and her left leg is bandaged entirely white from her thigh to her calf. They must have used her injury as an excuse to use the onsen. Maybe they'd seen him here, earlier.

He can't help himself: he collapses to his knees and breathes the deepest, loudest sigh of his life. They're alive. Alive. And they've found him.

***

Biwamaru leads them all back to their refugee camp. Immediately, Biwamaru encourages Hyakkimaru to sit. When he does, Akiko lowers herself next to him and grasps for his hand so hard that for a second he thinks she might break it. He looks at her, and squeezes back.

Dororo sits down on his other side, and she sends the fingers on both hands in and out, unsure what to do with them; it's not like she can just grab his other hand. Finally she settles on inching herself close enough to him that their knees nearly bump, and looks at him with wide-open eyes.

Biwamaru remains standing; he distributes water from two buckets to a sea of dark-blurred unfamiliar faces. Hyakkimaru tries to get up and help him, but Akiko holds him in place, and Dororo says in a dull flat tone: "We thought you were dead. How did you--"

"--survive?" he muses. Dororo nods, and he shrugs. "No idea. I still feel like I could throw up at any second. I also still can't see very well all the time..." Another shrug. "When I attacked those men, it was desperation and adrenaline keeping me going. I don't know what else could have."

Biwamaru looks back at them and says, tentatively, "I smelled a demon. But it didn't capture us--that was the spies with their knock-out darts. They didn't work very well on me," Biwamaru says, "but I played dead. Listened, and observed. 

"I saw no demons between the forest and here," he says, "which means..."

"...the demon was me," Hyakkimaru finishes with a defeated sigh. "Yeah. I thought of that."

Dororo frowns. "Wait-- _you're_ a demon? Since when? I thought that--" The look he gives her is two parts confusion and one part pain, so she shuts up and turns away from him.

Biwamaru offers Dororo a kind smile. "I've known he was part demon since he was born," he says. "But being part demon doesn't necessarily make a person evil."  
  
_Then what does?_ she thinks but doesn't say. 

"I think it explains why I lived through that poison," he says, "and why I managed to take down a few soldiers, even in a weakened state. If I could--harness--it somehow, I may be able to heal enough to help us escape." A pause. "I can fight in this condition if I have to. They're drugging me, but it's not much. If it comes to it, I think I can at least take them down with me."

Biwamaru nods thoughtfully. "We have two advantages, I think. The first is that we have found one another. The second is that we are almost certainly more formidable than they give us credit for."

"Three advantages," Dororo says. "Iwasa's coming."

"True," Biwamaru acknowledges, "but he doesn't know where we are. It may not be wise to count on his help."

Dororo shrugs. "So...what's the plan, then?"

"The plan is for me to get back to camp before they miss me," Hyakkimaru says, "and wait for cover of darkness. Tomorrow, I think."

Tomorrow? "Why tomorrow?"

"I overheard some guards. Earlier. They're attacking the city then. They'll leave us here. We'll escape in the opposite direction of the attack."

And abandon Amagi. Dororo doesn't like that idea. "You mean we'll leave all these people to die."

He sighs. "I can't save them," he says. "We'll save more lives if we pit an army against another army than if we try going on suicidal rescue missions." He looks to Biwamaru, as if expecting him to back him up.

Biwamaru shakes his head sadly. "Disappointing. You remind me of when we first met."

Hyakkimaru frowns. "How?"

"You thought you were useless," Biwamaru says. "You asked me to teach you, help you, make you stronger, even without words. 

"I said it before, didn't I?" Biwamaru asks. "We're stronger than they think we are."

Hyakkimaru nods. "Mizuha. Tokku. Jorogumo. I can call them. If they're close enough, they might come."

Dororo frowns at the names. "Who are these people? Fighters? Allies?"

"Yes," Hyakkimaru says, "and demons." He looks up at Biwamaru. "There are going to be executions tomorrow. I notice Hitomi isn't here. Am I really lucky and she's just sleeping, or--?"

Biwamaru shakes his head. "She is not here. But I have heard about these executions, so I may know where to find her. It's in the same direction you came from, if you want to take a look."

Hyakkimaru nods. "Then let's do it."

***

Biwamaru does know where the prisoners for execution are being held: in cages just outside a large trampled space, clearly made by the army as a punishment field for war prisoners. It's fairly deserted at this time of night, perhaps because it's so far into the main camp, but Biwamaru insists on going in alone; as the most harmless looking and one of their most capable fighters, he stands to draw the least attention to himself. And even if he gets caught, he's confident that he'll be able to deal with the problem without much fuss. Hyakkimaru reluctantly agrees with him, and they all wait outside the huge flat space for him to return.

Biwamaru is not at all hampered by darkness, so it does not take him much time to locate Hitomi's aura. He finds her crouched in the corner of a cage, wearing the same kimono she was captured in, judging by the smell.

"What are you doing here, old man?" she asks.

"Looking for you," he says. "We were all worried. It seemed like you were dead."

"I may as well be," she says as she gestures expansively around herself. "I'm going to be executed at noon tomorrow. Military hanging, so I guess I'll at least get a burial, which is more generous than I expected."

"I did not expect that they would kill you," Biwamaru says. "Otherwise I would have checked here sooner."

"I agreed to marry a Daigo," she says. "There is no greater betrayal for my family, aside from actually marrying one. I'll be lucky if hanging is all they do to me." She shrugs. "So, what? Did you have some kind of plan to get me out? Or are you going to leave me here?" she asks.

"Hyakkimaru wouldn't want that," he says. "Neither would Dororo. Akiko might not, either, but it's hard to tell."

Hitomi snorts a little at that. "Why do you care? Are they even alive?"

"Yes, all of them," Biwamaru says. "And if you do as I ask, we may be able to get you out of here."

She looks up at him, and her aura flashes red-white with determination for a moment. "I'm listening."


	10. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, Hyakki," Dororo calls out, "Are you okay?" 
> 
> "I'm fine," he says, looking up from the bandage with a little frown.
> 
> "You're a liar," the woman standing near him says. As Dororo approaches Hyakkimaru and takes a closer look at the woman, Dororo realizes that the shiny part of her red kimono--the part that she'd assumed was silk from a greater distance--is actually on fire. Burning, but not being consumed. 
> 
> Dororo stands very still, because she thinks she's looking at a demon.
> 
> "You should have called us long before this," a woman with giant hairy spider legs for hands says irritably.
> 
> "A waterfall is literally right there." A greenish, tiny sort of scaly monster with too-big ears and visible gills points to the waterfall that flows down to the women's camp. 
> 
> "If I'd called you earlier, then you guys would have done all the work for me, and what fun would that be?"
> 
> "Ungrateful," the woman on fire says.
> 
> "Immature," the woman with spider legs for hands says.
> 
> "Insane," the sea-creature looking thing intones gravely.
> 
> Or, the one where friends arrive.

Asakura Hitomi is awakened two hours before dawn by a pair of grim guards she does not recognize. They bring her water, a change of clothes and a simple meal, to purify her body and prepare her spirit for her coming death. She washes herself as thoroughly as she can, but barely touches the food; she is too nervous. 

_There is a plan,_ she reminds herself, speaking to herself internally in an attempt to keep calm. _All you have to do is play dead._

She knows she is slated to be the first to die this morning. How fast she is rescued will affect how many other prisoners die as well. Idle thoughts about what to expect after death flit through her mind: reincarnation, nothingness, nirvana. She dismisses them as not immediately relevant, then takes a deep breath in and holds it. As she releases her breath, she verifies the location of the tiny pouch of powder Biwamaru had slipped to her last night. 

It's hidden beneath her armpit, and hadn't shifted when she'd changed clothes. All the pieces are in place.

She's ready.

Her guards don't make her wait long. The sun is barely visible above the horizon when they lead her to a flat clear space of trampled grass. At the center of it is a field gallows, designed to fold up smaller and draw in a wagon, probably meant for the execution of deserters. Rickety wooden steps lead up to a long low platform with a hinge that drops a platform down, a top bar, and three dangling nooses. Hitomi's guards approach her, and she shifts her pouch into one hand and empties its contents into her mouth. 

She conceals the pouch in her hand as the guards grab her arms. Neither of them seem to have noticed anything. She climbs the stairs with difficulty; one of the guards guides her to the noose on the left-hand side of the gallows and fits the rope around her neck, getting her slightly damp hair caught up in it as well.

Hitomi purses her lips in displeasure. This will certainly be uncomfortable.

Asakura Hiroto, her uncle, is the one who reads out her sentence. She is not surprised; in fact, part of her is glad that at least it's not her father.

"Asakura Hitomi," Hiroto begins, "you have been charged with breaking your oath to the clan and instigating a war with Daigo and Takeda. This is a grave crime, but out of respect for your noble family, the sentence is commuted from beheading without burial to death by hanging. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Hitomi permits herself a bitter chuckle, because this is samurai mercy. It's not like burial even matters to the deceased. "You're not going to spare me no matter what I say, so let's just get it over with." Her vision is dimming at the edges; she's finding it hard to stay on her feet. All according to plan.

Hiroto nods gravely. "I was right to expect dignity from you." He raises his right hand and makes a sharp chopping motion down. Suddenly, the platform beneath her gives way, and she falls into the hole, waits for the noose to catch her and break her neck--

She almost loses consciousness, but not quite. She holds on long enough to feel her feet connect with something reassuringly solid. Then her eyes roll back into her head, and her last thought is that Asakura Hitomi is dead. The thought relieves her; she had never really liked any of the roles and responsibilities that had been placed on her. Just before she blacks out, she wonders what kind of person she'll get to become now.

***

Hitomi revives somewhat later; the sun is overhead, and three worried faces block her view of the lightening sky as she opens her eyes. "Where am I?" she asks.

"The burial ground," Biwamaru says. "It took us longer to find you than we hoped, so Hyakkimaru stayed behind to help the others. We don't have time for that, though--we have to get away. Can you walk?"

Hitomi tests her limb movements uncomfortably. Her body feels ridiculously heavy, but she can move. Dororo offers her a hand up, and she gets to her feet jaggedly, some of the poison she used to slow her heart rate still circulating in her system. "I thought you might leave me for dead."

Dororo shakes her head. "We aren't the sort of people to break promises." She glances over Hitomi's shoulder, presumably in the direction of camp. "If you've got her, Biwamaru, I'll go back for Hyakki."

"I'm coming, too," Akiko says.

"You are not," Dororo says, holding out a bow and a quiver of a dozen or so arrows. "Your leg's not strong enough yet. Protect Hitomi. Back up Biwamaru. And find Iwasa."

Iwasa? "Takeda Iwasa? The lord of Konzo?" Hitomi asks.

"That's the one," Akiko says. "You know him?"

"Only by reputation. As a decent man," she adds.

Akiko snorts. "Well, he helped raise me, if that helps you form any opinion at all." She snatches the bow from Dororo and settles the quiver over her shoulders. One leg is wrapped in white-gray bandages, and while she doesn't display visible pain when standing, her stance is somewhat uneven, as if compensating for the weaker side.

Biwamaru starts walking toward the edge of the burial pit, wading through littered corpses, using his cane as a guide. They are near the edge of the pit here, and that's a blessing of sorts; when she musters the bravery to look over her shoulder, Hitomi does not like what she sees.

Calling the burial pit a place of burial is generous; most of the corpses are exposed to the air, and the others are simply buried under other corpses. Giant flies and clouds of gnats swarm over her legs as she walks. The smell is putrid; she'd been getting hints of it on the wind all morning, but up close it makes her want to vomit. It's the beginning of summer, so the sticky heat attracts maggots and flies; poisoned mushrooms sprout around her feet in clumps.

"I hate this place," she says into Biwamaru's shoulder.

He points straight ahead, and she sees a long line of men in black armor with a faint white-colored mon painted on the chest. They carry no banners; apparently they are trying for stealth. "Who are they?" she asks. "I can't tell."

"If I'm right," Biwamaru says, "then the rescue party has arrived."

***

Dororo runs back to the field gallows alone, with a single kodachi and no plan except a vague, general understanding that Hyakkimaru needs to get out of there, fast. Him staying behind had not been part of the plan, but it would have been hard to slip away from the base of the gallows with everyone watching the platform.

Hard, but not impossible. There's nothing wrong with his legs--as she will remind him, probably repeatedly, if they get out of this in one piece. The initial plan had been to save Hitomi, wait for her unconscious body to be dragged off, and run from the gallows field. He had chosen to stay behind to save as many of the prisoners as possible. 

She doesn't entirely blame him for that. She understands the unique pressure of watching innocent people die in front of you, and understands that Hyakkimaru feels that pressure more strongly because he'd also been given a sentence he had not been meant to survive, but she wishes, at times like this, that he had just an ounce of her practicality.

When the gallows comes into view, it is no longer standing upright, but tilted on an angle, as if it's been partially absorbed into quicksand. She stops in her tracks to survey the situation closer, and the first thing she notices is that there's no fighting. Four figures stand a little to the left of the gradually sinking gallows, and they are talking. Maybe arguing?

One of the figures is familiar: As she watches, Hyakkimaru moves away from the other three figures near him to sit down on a muddy patch of ground, tying off a bandage on his upper arm with this teeth. He puts both of his kodachi out in front of him, drawn, but he's not holding them; there's no one left to fight that she can see. A woman in a pretty red kimono stands a few meters away from him; the other two maintain a bit more distance. Dororo considers this entire situation odd--where are the soldiers?--and puts her own kodachi up in threat as she approaches.

"Hey, Hyakki," she calls out, "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," he says, looking up from the bandage with a little frown.

"You're a liar," the woman standing near him says. As Dororo approaches Hyakkimaru and takes a closer look at the woman, Dororo realizes that the shiny part of her red kimono--the part that she'd assumed was silk from a greater distance--is actually on fire. Burning, but not being consumed. 

Dororo stands very still, because she thinks she's looking at a demon.

"You should have called us long before this," a woman with giant hairy spider legs for hands says irritably.

"A waterfall is literally right there." A greenish, tiny sort of scaly monster with too-big ears and visible gills points to the waterfall that flows down to the women's camp. 

The ground beneath Dororo's feet is slick, slippery; she sees that the field gallows had not so much been absorbed by quicksand as collapsed into the oversaturated ground. Two corners of the platform are completely submerged, and the other two are angled jauntily into the sky. The corners exposed to the air are on fire.

It's quiet, but there are no bodies, no fallen fighters. "Where is everyone? Where did they go?" Even Hyakkimaru can't decimate a battlefield without leaving bodies--can he?

"See for yourself," Hyakkimaru says, gesturing expansively toward a stand of trees at the far edge of the flat execution ground.

All the soldiers who had come to witness and carry out the execution--including Asakura Hiroto--are hanging from giant spider sacs in trees dotting the edges of the wide-open field; only their heads and helmets are visible through the cocoons. 

She doesn't think she'd left Hyakkimaru alone long enough for him to wreak this level of destruction. She'll never underestimate him again.

Hyakkimaru addresses the three demons, who surround him in a loose semicircle. "If I'd called you earlier, then you guys would have done all the work for me, and what fun would that be?"

"Ungrateful," the woman on fire says.

"Immature," the woman with spider legs for hands says.

"Insane," the sea-creature looking thing intones gravely.

Dororo puts up a hand, tentatively. "Um. Hi. Have we--met?"

"We have," the spider-handed woman says, "though you were considerably smaller. I had thought you dead. I'm glad to be mistaken." Her spider-leg hands morph into normal-looking human hands as she speaks, which is frankly a little unsettling.

Hyakkimaru sighs heavily. "Dororo," he says, "this is the spider-demon we hunted after--after Mio's temple burned down. Her name is Jorogumo. She and Yajiro have been living in Konzo for years." He gestures to the giant fish-like creature. "This is Tokku. He's a kappa. He doesn't usually come this far north, but some bandits polluted his family's habitat with burn waste, and I killed the bandits and helped him clean the river, so he helps me sometimes."

Dororo gulps. Don't kappa drown people? She doesn't know anything about them, except for that. She looks at the sinking gallows and realizes the power to make things sink in water is pretty damned impressive.

"Oh, and this is--" Hyakkimaru looks to the woman on fire awkwardly. "What name do you prefer here?"

"Names are nice but useless," the woman answers. 

"Okay, that doesn't really...uh. Okay." He looks at Dororo. "This is Mizuha. She's not a demon. She's some kind of protective spirit or deity who works with elemental fire--from lighting, or tectonic shifts, things like that..."

"You're babbling," Dororo says. That's usually what he says to her. Why would he be so nervous to introduce someone? Are they...involved somehow? The thought makes her stop breathing for a moment, because what if he'd made a deal with her or something? Like Daigo had made a deal with the Hall of Hell demons...

Hyakkimaru takes a deep breath and continues. "In Kaga, we call her the Goddess of Mercy," he says. "She saved me from being consumed. When I was a baby."

"Oh," Dororo says, "oh." She's that person--goddess--whatever.

"I liked you better then," Mizuha--the goddess?--mutters at him.

It takes Dororo a few seconds to process the idea that the Goddess of Mercy is a real thing, but Hyakkimaru has no reason to lie to her about this. As soon as she does process it, she realizes that these are all of Hyakkimaru's demonic/spirit friends, and that they're mad at him. 

Dororo can't help it: she laughs.

In the stillness, surrounded by men trapped in spider silk with water pooling around her ankles, the laugh sounds loud and clear enough to cut atmosphere. Hyakkimaru looks at her, confused, and says, "What? What did I do?"

"Nothing," she says. "I'm just happy I'm not the only one you exasperate. Come on. The others are waiting for us."

***

Hyakkimaru gets to his feet with his kodachi in his hands, still being heckled by his demonic allies. It is true that he hasn't called on them in a while, but he'd been stuck in Kaga and then immobilized by poison, so it's not entirely his fault. Mizuha's sulky mother henning is new, and even Tokku seems a bit upset to be neglected. He supposes her should take his alliances with demons more seriously, but he also doesn't know how to do that, really. Call them for help more? Ask if he can help them with things?

He shakes his head, then points with his left kodachi at the western forest. "Iwasa's army will be coming from that direction, I think,"

"Stragglers," Jorogumo hisses. She turns entirely into a spider, and Dororo clutches his arm briefly as if she's actually scared. He shakes her off, not because he doesn't want to reassure her, but because he needs two hands to fight and Jorogumo is nothing to be afraid of.

"Idiots," Mizuha offers. She cups her hands together and blows a kiss at a man attempting to charge her. The wind carries it to the attacker, and the result is that his head is engulfed in flames.

"Remind me not to piss her off," Dororo says next to him, putting up her own kodachi. He feels rather than sees Dororo settle into battle-readiness. "Hey, Hyakki," she says idly, "think your friend could teach me that fire trick?"

Hyakkimaru trains his eyes on someone moving in a zigzag pattern through the trees, close and getting closer, but he answers: "I think you'd have to become some kind of demonic aberration like me for that to work."

Dororo hmphs, and takes off after the target he's been tracking, running them through with a single hard thrust through the throat.

"Don't go too far," Hyakkimaru calls after her.

"All right, mom," she calls back as she disappears into the trees.

Tokku plods up behind him and says, "Someone is crossing the stream just ahead. The one who leads them is familiar."

"Iwasa is here?"

Tokku nods. "Well, if everything's settled, I'm going home." 

Suddenly, two men emerge from the trees and flank them. Tokku yawns, and Jorogumo lunges on one while Hyakkimaru beheads the other, splashing Tokku with a bit of blood.

"Salty," Tokku complains; apparently some blood had gotten in his mouth. "When you are back in Konzo, you should visit."

"Uh, I should?"

Tokku gives him a look that is hard to read.

"Uh, okay. I will," he says, because he thinks that's the right thing to say.

Tokku nods gravely, and disappears into the ground, leaving a small puddle in his wake.

Hyakkimaru sprints into the trees after Dororo, and finds that she's been flanked on either side, too, but there are three of them. Judging from the number of dead and writhing men on the ground surrounding her, there used to be considerably more. Hyakkimaru vaults into a tree and hears something whiz past him from below: arrows. 

He turns to identify the archer and sees that the projectiles are not pointed at him. "Akiko," he mutters, making eye contact with her in the trees. She had climbed one and taken up a sniping post. Clever, as always.

One of Dororo's attackers goes down with two arrows in his back; another gets beheaded from behind as Hyakkimaru flips over him with an X-cut; he uses the momentum to land in front of the last attacker.

A bullet goes through the man's windpipe before either Hyakkimaru or Dororo can do anything, and Dororo lets out a little sigh of disappointment. "Can't I kill my own bad guys for once?"

Hyakkimaru is not paying attention to her pouting; Akiko does not have a gun right now. The bullet was either a stray arrow from an enemy, or...

He points to the far side of the trees close to the river. Three--or four? maybe more--black-clad people are assembled in a loose arc, and at least two of them have guns. 

"Iwasa!" Dororo waves, and one of the figures in black waves back. Hyakkimaru breathes a loud sigh of relief. Mizuha appears briefly in front of him, popping out and away in a flash of fire with a curt, "Call for help next time!." Jorogumo, still in spider form, wraps and strings up his and Dororo's latest kills, presumably to eat later.

Dororo and Hyakkimaru run to the riverbank together. Hyakkimaru notices that Iwasa has brought considerably more than four fighters, but that they're all scattered and set up along a sort of perimeter line, as if they're trying to keep Asakura forces from escaping the area. That must mean there's a larger force somewhere--but where is it?

He and Iwasa clasp hands in greeting. "Took you long enough, you bastard."

"Ha, ha," Iwasa says humorlessly. He looks around for a few moments, assessing the area for remaining threats. "I didn't know exactly where you were until Biwamaru told me. Took a while to find this place. Also," he says, his voice dropping almost into a whisper, "there's more you should know, but we can't talk about it here. Come on."

Dororo blinks. "What do you mean? How much more private does it get than the middle of the woods?"

"I mean that shit's about to hit the fan," Iwasa says, "and it's not actually physically safe to talk. Privacy's not the issue." He beckons them into the rocky forested area on the opposite side of the river. Hyakkimaru stalls him for a moment and goes back for Akiko, thinking she may need help getting down from the tree. Akiko resents being helped, but between them he and Dororo manage to get her safely to the ground in one piece, and and they follow Iwasa's lead while supporting her between them.

"Biwamaru and Hitomi are already at the camp," Iwasa says. "Follow me."

"I can walk, y'know," Akiko complains as they move.

"There's a difference between 'can' and 'should,'" Hyakkimaru says. The ground in front of them is becoming steeper and stonier; more difficult to navigate. Now that the battle is over he could use some water and something to eat. Akiko starts feeling heavy the farther they climb.

The trees thin out in front of them, allowing Hyakkimaru to see more clearly where they're actually going. Hyakkimaru knew there would be a larger force, but he still did not expect the vast scale of the army camp Iwasa leads then into. Fifty or sixty tents are in his general sight line, and men occupy every one: there are cooking fires, latrine pits, field hospitals, supply tents. Compared to the Asakura forces they're much better organized and supplied; Hyakkimaru didn't think Konzo could muster such an army, especially on short notice.

And so when Kagemitsu Daigo emerges from a red tent at the very front of the camp, Hyakkimaru is not surprised. 

Dororo is, though.

"Holy shit," Dororo says, "does this mean Kaga declared war with Asakura after all?"

"Like I said," Iwasa says, gesturing them forward, toward Daigo's tent. "It's complicated."


	11. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akiko looks back and forth between him and Dororo as he speaks, then glares down at her leg, still injured and swollen, though almost fully functional. To Hyakkimaru, she says, "Any others I should know about?"
> 
> "No," he says. "I should be back in a week or so."
> 
> She nods in acknowledgement. "Say hi to Tarou if you see him. You could not pay me enough to buy wedding presents for your dickless wonder of a father."
> 
> "You've been spending too much time with Iwasa," Hyakkimaru mutters. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dororo choking back laughter. "But anyway, I'll tell Tarou hi. Maybe he'll be able to come back with us for the wedding."
> 
> Akiko smiles faintly. "I'd like that. It would give me someone to mock things with."
> 
> "Please refrain from calling Daigo a dickless wonder when I'm not here," Hyakkimaru says.
> 
> "I will do my utter best," Akiko says. She doesn't sound sincere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indulge me in some innocent merriment, before all hell breaks loose once again. Or, Hyakkimaru and Dororo: The Buddy Comedy Chapter. (Extra angst included, because that's how we do things here.)

Sitting in Daigo's war council is probably the most uncomfortable Dororo has ever been--and she'd nearly lost her hand in a rockslide once.

Four of them sit around a low table with a large map of the province laid out on top of it. Daigo sits on her left; next to him is Iwasa with blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth, then Hyakkimaru directly across from her. Hitomi is to her right, and Biwamaru stands in the far left corner of the red tent, peering out as if he's expecting visitors. Akiko had been taken off to one of the hospital tents for treatment, and while Dororo is relieved at this turn of events she also misses her. They could use her here.

Daigo clears his throat, and everyone around the table except Hyakkimaru sits up a little straighter. Daigo leans forward and steeples his fingers. "So," he says to Hyakkimaru, "you failed."

Hyakkimaru cocks his head. "Well, not completely. Hitomi-san is alive."

Daigo spreads his hands and looks at Hitomi with an expression of seething rage that makes her flinch. "So she is," Daigo says, "but the entire province is at war, and there won't be peace unless we hand her over."

"Or crush them," Iwasa offers, remembering at the last second to add a politeness marker because Daigo outranks him.

Hyakkimaru shakes his head. "What would be the point? It's not like Kaga has the resources to hold on to another province even if Daigo conquers it."

"They would if we gave them a loan," Iwasa puts in. "We have enough men and money to occupy this city, after all."

Hyakkimaru glares at Iwasa, but then his expression softens somewhat. "You think we can rebuild it like we built up Konzo," he says softly. "Dororo, tell him why that's a bad idea."

"What, me?" 

"He won't listen to me," Hyakkimaru says. "It should come from you."

"By all means," Daigo says, waving a hand expansively.

"Konzo only got built up after the roads got better and it had free access to trade with Enuma," she says, frowning deeply. "If Konzo gives up its wealth to conquer this place, there won't be enough resources for infrastructure to build it back up. Not for many years, at least."

Hyakkimaru nods. "So you think so, too."

She hadn't actually thought about it. This morning she'd still thought the plan was to get Hitomi and run back to Kaga for Daigo's marriage. Daigo being here is what's really put a wrench in things. 

Dororo glances over at Hitomi. "They're your family, Hitomi-san," Dororo says. "Do you know of any way to deal with them peacefully?"

"My uncle and my father, no," Hitomi says. "My sister might be reasoned with, as might my cousins in Haki, further south. You might negotiate with them, if your goal is to restore the province to the Asakura clan."

"Write their names down here," Daigo says, offering Hitomi a half-full parchment scroll and a charcoal crayon to write with. She scribbles hastily with her head down, and Daigo sneers at her.

Dororo puts her chin in her hands and draws up her knees under the table. "I think we should crush this army, claim they were just errant rebels or something, and give over governing the province to Hitomi-san's more reasonable relatives. Daigo-sama marrying Hitomi-san could cement the deal," she says speculatively.

Daigo nods sharply at her. "That may work, if all parties agree. What happens if they don't?"

"Well, that's, uh..."

"Why not try it before assuming it will fail?" Hyakkimaru cuts in, and it is only now that she realizes he hasn't bothered to be polite to Daigo at all.

Daigo begins rolling up the map on the table. "I don't have the luxury of failure here," he says. "I need to be prepared for everything." He looks to Iwasa.

"If the Asakura clan can't be reasoned with, you will have my men and my resources," Iwasa says, bowing his head a little. "I can't speak for Hyakkimaru-san's."

Dororo's eyes widen, because since when does Hyakkimaru have a need for things like an army and money? But she keeps her mouth shut.

Hyakkimaru's expression darkens. "I won't leave Konzo undefended, and I won't send my people off on a fool's errand. But I'll lend you whoever is willing to go and help. More than that, I can't promise."

"And what about you, Hyakkimaru?" Dororo asks. "Will you help us?"

All eyes turn to Hyakkimaru, and he nods. "All right. Fine. I'll help you. On one condition."

Daigo chuckles. "This should be good."

"Don't kill Hitomi-san," he says. "A lot of people worked very hard to keep her alive."

Hitomi looks up from her furious scribbling. She stands briefly, then goes into a deep bow on her knees before Hyakkimaru, hands touching the ground. She does not say a word.

***

It takes some time to send scouts and runners south to Haki. During that time, Daigo, Dororo, Hyakkimaru and Hitomi decide that the wedding should go on as planned, and that they should be able to have it as soon as they hear back from the scouts. If the Asakura accept their terms, the marriage will formalize their alliance. And if they refuse, the marriage will put Daigo in a better position as conqueror.

However, things aren't quite that simple. Most of Hitomi's wedding things had gone missing or been stolen in the first attempt on her life. Daigo had also not bothered to bring any of his wedding gifts or clothing to Amagi. If they're going to have a proper wedding, they're going to need to go shopping.

It's impossible. Daigo has an army to lead, and Hitomi is too valuable a hostage to be let go just for wedding errands. The expense is also not something anyone planned for, so there is general dithering for a few days before Dororo gets too impatient and decides to go herself for the wedding things.

She needs to get Daigo's permission--and a budget--to do that, so she goes to visit his tent. Iwasa is outside, and he guides her a little ways away from the tent, saying that Daigo is in a meeting and can't be disturbed.

"I didn't expect to see you as the guard on the door," Dororo says. 

"Daigo's gotten twitchy about security," Iwasa tells her in a hushed tone. "Not that I blame him, with how rough it was getting you back here, but...I think this whole experience is going to be more like a military parade than a wedding."

"Poor Hitomi," Dororo says reflexively.

"Why do you say that? She gets to live, doesn't she?"

Sometimes she forgets how rough Iwasa's life circumstances have been. She thinks for a moment before she answers, "I only mean that...marriages are supposed to be good, right? Two families uniting to become stronger. I think Daigo was hoping for that. Instead, Hitomi just sparked a war sooner."

Iwasa just shrugs. "I think the lesson is that the war was always coming. Hitomi's betrothal may have been the impetus, but it could just as easily have been something else." He scratches his forehead. "My dad was a mean old bastard, a lot like Daigo, so I understand him here. This isn't a marriage to stop a war right here, right now. It's a marriage to stop future wars."

"He wants a half-Asakura heir, you mean," Dororo says. "You're right. That makes a certain amount of sense." And then she thinks about it. "So Daigo's going to have to kick around for twenty more years at least, if peace is the goal..."

"No," Iwasa says mildly. "Even if he dies, he has you to hold things together. Barring that, Hyakkimaru could hold the center of a molten volcano together if you asked him to. I'm not saying it's not a gamble," Iwasa says, "but, hell. If I were in the same position, I'd try it."

Dororo glances sidelong at him. "Why aren't you married, anyway?"

"Long story," he says. "Why aren't you?"

"I'm not of age. And Daigo hasn't decided to get rid of me yet."

Iwasa snorts at that. "Wish Hyakkimaru would get married. Then Kaguya might stop giving him doe eyes and give me a shot."

Dororo makes a face. "What, you and Kaguya? Isn't she a little..." She doesn't know how to put it. Pretentious? No, not quite right. High-class, maybe? Granted, Iwasa is, too, at least by birth, but he'll probably always have the rough manners of his life as a mercenary.

Iwasa stands up a little straighter. "She likes my cooking. Isn't that enough?"

Dororo shrugs. She's never even had a crush on someone; consequently, all her conversations about marriage flatten from the romantic to the strategic plane. She'd had a brief, harrowing breakdown after her fourteenth birthday party when she'd realized Daigo could make her marry someone she hated, but she's not scared of that anymore.

"You'll have to ask her, not me," Dororo says. "When is Daigo's meeting supposed to be over, anyway?"

***

Daigo flatly refuses to permit her to go wedding shopping. "Too dangerous," he says.

"But it's a wedding! Isn't there some weird courtship dance that you and Hitomi-san have to do to legitimize everything?"

Daigo frowns. "I have gifted her some clothing and lacquerware as is customary. She will have more gifts when we return to Enuma. That should be sufficient."

"It just...doesn't seem right," Dororo says. 

"Of course it's not right, you little fool," Daigo says, "but the closest place to buy anything we need is probably..."

"...Konzo," Dororo says. "I know the way. I can get there and back in four days if I keep to the road and drive hard." She senses him weakening, so she goes all in: "If you're that worried about me, why not send a bodyguard to protect me?"

"Hm. An interesting thought." He offers her a creepy smile, looking pleased with himself. "Ask Hyakkimaru to go with you. And pay for it. If he agrees, you can go."

"Really?"

"Yes. Only because I want my wedding to be respectable. You know what we need, yes?"

"Uh, Hitomi-san has a list I think."

"Good. If that's all you needed from me, I was about to talk to Takeda Iwasa about blowing up the new general's camp."

Dororo blinks, decides that that is none of her business, and goes to find Hyakkimaru. When was the last time they went shopping, anyway?

*** 

Dororo finds Hyakkimaru in the field hospital closest to Daigo's tent, where the critical cases are kept. He's setting the leg bone of a man who'd gone unconscious from blood loss or shock; she has to call him three times for him to look up. "Oh, Dororo. Care to give me a hand? This won't pull straight unless I keep his hips level."

"Sure." Dororo holds the man's hips down while Hyakkimaru yanks the leg into proper position and splints it, muttering something about inflammation, or maybe infection.

"So," Dororo says when that's done, "I, uh..."

Hyakkimaru cleans blood off his hands with a rag. "What is it? I'm busy."

And he is. He'd probably do more good staying with the injured here. But Daigo's wedding is also for the greater good, and the more legitimate it looks from the outside, the better.

She puts on her best smile. "Wanna go to Konzo with me?" she asks.

Hyakkimaru nods absently, then frowns. "You look too cheerful. What's the catch?"

"We're going wedding shopping!"

"We're--what?"

"Most of Hitomi's things got lost in combat, and Daigo didn't bring anything. The wedding must go on, so Daigo's given me permission to get the things they need in Konzo."

"...if?" Hyakkimaru asks. "C'mon, Dororo. There's something you're not telling me. I know the look."

"Daigo wants you to pay for it."

"Of course he does." Hyakkimaru shakes his head, but it's not a flat refusal. "I need to make sure these guys get through the night. If they do, I'd feel okay about leaving Akiko in charge here."

"So you'll go with me?"

"I just said I would, didn't I? Give me a day or two."

"Yes!" Dororo pumps her fist. "We are going to stage the best wedding ever. I know it."

Hyakkimaru shrugs. "I'm not sure why you care so much."

Dororo hadn't considered that question beyond legitimacy for Daigo and doing something nice for Hitomi. She probably doesn't need better answers than that. "Whatever," she says. "I'll get a wagon ready. And when you know our budget, could you tell me?"

Hyakkimaru waves her off then, gesturing to the seemingly endless line of wounded behind him, and she goes. She brings drinking water and water for bandages to the hospital before making preparations for the wagon. She wants to work in the field hospital, too, but her status would get in the way; if Daigo found out he'd claim the work was beneath her.

"Hyakkimaru gets to have all the fun," she mutters as she checks Oujiya's damaged hoof for roughage and splinters. Iwasa had brought her along with him, and she's glad to see her. "Shame you're not a cart horse," she says. She finishes grooming Oujiya, then selects a horse for travel and a small wagon to hitch it to. When Hyakkimaru supplies the money, they'll have everything they need to get started.

***

Hyakkimaru's charges make it through the night, and Akiko is able to walk around like normal, so Hyakkimaru delegates hospital duties to her while he considers all of his caches along the road. Of course, he has plenty of money in Konzo itself in case of emergencies, but he had also stashed money and supplies at hidden points in the woods from here to Enuma; he considers raiding those before dipping into his larger resource pool.

He still can't believe Daigo suckered him into paying for his wedding. Granted, it is partially Hyakkimaru's fault that the first planned wedding ceremony became impossible...but only partially, and Hyakkimaru still considers these circumstances unfair. Daigo and unfairness are inextricably linked in his mind, so the concept of having to pay for something not his fault doesn't cause him too much cognitive dissonance. He has the money, and he rarely spends it on anything; he may as well spend some to make Kaga more stable and peaceful.

Dororo also seems unusually happy to be getting out of this place. He doesn't blame her for that, either. Amagi's siege has neither lifted nor moved forward; Daigo is trying for a peaceful resolution, but it's really too late for that. All Hyakkimaru sees when he walks around is orphans, widows, and dying people.

Getting out of here for a while would probably do him some good, too. He's still not recovered from his poisoning, but he's generally feeling better, and Konzo is, if not home, then a sort of anchoring space. Always there. Always safe. 

He shoves a few strips of dried meat and nuts into his pack and makes sure he has water and his first aid kit, and of course his swords. That done, he hands off his hospital work to Akiko, telling her where to find the most severe cases and how to treat them. 

Akiko looks back and forth between him and Dororo as he speaks, then glares down at her leg, still injured and swollen, though almost fully functional. To Hyakkimaru, she says, "Any others I should know about?"

"No," he says. "I should be back in a week or so."

She nods in acknowledgement. "Say hi to Tarou if you see him. You could not pay me enough to buy wedding presents for your dickless wonder of a father."

"You've been spending too much time with Iwasa," Hyakkimaru mutters. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dororo choking back laughter. "But anyway, I'll tell Tarou hi. Maybe he'll be able to come back with us for the wedding."

Akiko smiles faintly. "I'd like that. It would give me someone to mock things with."

"Please refrain from calling Daigo a dickless wonder when I'm not here," Hyakkimaru says.

"I will do my utter best," Akiko says. She doesn't sound sincere.

***

Dororo and Hyakkimaru have good traveling weather for most of the day, and make good time along the road. They encounter no one going east--hardly surprising, since the war's in the other direction--and take a break in the early evening to eat. Hyakkimaru fishes with kodachi while Dororo makes a fire and unwraps onigiri; they roast fish and look up at the sky as the stars come out and the crickets chirp around them.

Dororo spreads her arms and falls to the ground with a soft thump, looking up. "I see...the paradise bird, Fuuchou. And the Water Jar," she says, pointing out constellations.

Hyakkimaru peers upward and frowns. "Now that you mention it, that one kind of does look like the demonic bird that attacked me that one time."

"It's always demons, with you." She sits up. "Do you know the constellations, though? Did Jukai teach you?"

"Some," Hyakkimaru answers, rotating two sticks with fish skewered on them so that they will cook evenly. "He always thought I'd get my sight back eventually, so he taught me to find north, and big constellations that are visible in each season. I'm not sure I remember all of it."

She rests her chin in her hands, then crawls back to the fire on hands and knees. She reaches out for one of the fish skewers, and Hyakkimaru hands it to her. She keeps the fish over the fire and starts eating onigiri with her other hand. "My dad taught me how to find north, too," she says between bites. She pops her remaining piece of onigiri in her mouth and points to the north star.

Hyakkimaru reaches out and adjusts her hand about a quarter inch to the right. "It's that one. Close, though."

Mouth full, she sticks her tongue out at him.

He grins widely. "Your fish is burning."

***

Hyakkimaru wakes up when he feels the ground rumbling under him. It's still dark, and he immediately mutters "earthquake" but that's not quite right. He opens his eyes, fire burned down to ashes, and feels that the air had gotten heavier, somehow. As if--

\--as if it was about to rain. Damn it. He'd known the rainy season would start soon, but he'd also assumed the good weather of the day would hold overnight. He wakes Dororo and packs up everything, brisk and efficient but leaving the fire as-is; they don't have time to clean it up properly and flee.

When the rain starts, it falls in sheets and soaks him through instantly; the horse drawing the cart complains and bucks its back legs in terror or anger, maybe both. Lightning flashes, meets in the sky and streaks of jagged light spread outward from a single point like the spokes of a fan, leaving rumbling thunder in their wake. "We have to get to shelter," Dororo says. "Is there any?"

Hyakkimaru thinks about where they are generally, and realizes there's a cache nearby--a little out of the way of Konzo, which is why he hadn't thought to stop there before; they have to backtrack some way to get to it. "Yes," he says. "That way. If we're careful and don't slip too much, it should take us twenty minutes or so to find a tunnel."

"Then let's go," Dororo says, gesturing him to lead the way.

It's miserable going. The road is so muddy it can hardly be called such, and the erratic light from thunder is hardly enough to see by. The clouds get thicker as they go and water pools up to their ankles, the horse sloshing waves of water at every step. They have to climb a small hill to get to the tunnel and it's almost impossible; the ground is too wet. But they manage, and the tunnel is where Hyakkimaru had left it.

He leads the horse in; Dororo follows immediately after it, and he immediately shucks off his soaked kimono so that he won't catch a cold. Dororo watches what he's doing and her eyes widen; he shrugs and says, "Don't stand on ceremony. It's not like anyone can see us here."

Keeping his hakama on despite the clammy wet stickiness, he strings up a line between two boulders to hang his clothes and some blankets up to dry. It'll be hard to sleep soaked through like this.

Dororo bites her lip, then puts her back to him and removes her kimono as well. She has strapped her chest with bandages that she does not remove, and she's wearing hakama as well for travel, but she still blushes as if she's naked. 

He remembers she's always been self-conscious about her body, but he'd expected her to outgrow it. He hms, then reaches out for her kimono so he can hang it up to dry next to his. She gives it to him, and then starts rummaging in her pack for something reasonably dry. He does the same, though he's not hopeful.

He finds one blanket at the bottom of his pack that he'd used to store bread at one point; it's scratchy and full of crumbs, but it's the only dry piece of fabric they have between them and it's not like they can build a fire in a deluge. He puts the blanket over Dororo's shoulders and encourages her to rub her chest. "Your legs and arms will be okay. It's your lungs that need the help."

Dororo rubs her hands together for a few moments, and then they disappear under the blanket. "I hoped we'd miss the beginning of the rainy season," she says in a flat tone.

"So did I."

It's quiet for a while. Wind and thunder echo faintly through the cave, but they're far enough in that those sounds seem to come from another world. It's dark and cold and miserable; in some ways, it reminds Hyakkimaru of being blind.  
  
"It was raining like this the day I was born," he says.

"How do you know?"

"Jukai told me," he says. "He said there was a thunderstorm, then a downpour that he thought signaled some kind of ill omen--the whole plain got washed out. I got washed downriver with the flood. That's how he found me."

"Why was he outside in a thunderstorm?"

Hyakkimaru considers. "I'm not sure, but he would sometimes go out in the rain to find mushrooms. It's easier to find them when the ground is still wet."

Dororo's wet hair drapes over one shoulder as she leans forward, curling in on herself. "I was born in a burning house. My mother barely escaped alive." Lightning flashes, and illumination briefly cuts over her face. "And I'm one of them now. Not sure how I feel about that." She shivers.

"I'm samurai, too, you know. Though I didn't exactly pick it. Not all of us are bastards."

"Yeah, I know," Dororo says, but she looks away from him. Her shivering intensifies, her lips are blue, and he says, "We have to warm you up."

She nods. "How?"

Hyakkimaru crosses over to Dororo's side of the cave and sits down close to her. He looks at her, but her expression is hard to read in the half-dark. He lifts his arm and wraps it around her shoulders, rubbing the skin of her arms through the blanket, and she flinches but she doesn't tell him to back off.

She stops shivering after a while, and he lets go of her but doesn't move away. "A fire's impossible, but if you can, try to get some sleep." 

She leans her wet head against his bare shoulder. "That's probably impossible. But I'll try."

A short time later, her soft snores echo through the cave. Lightning continues to flash through at odd intervals, though the thunder gets more distant by degrees. Dororo's head is perched precariously on his right shoulder, so he can't move or he'll wake her. As a result, he doesn't sleep at all.

He catches a cold.

***

The somber mood of the evening extends into the next day. Hyakkimaru tries to figure out exactly what he said to trigger it, but he can't think of anything. The best explanation he can think of is that Dororo is annoyed with or ill-adjusted to her samurai status. There isn't much he can do about that, and privately he considers that her own damn problem that she signed onto herself. Daigo didn't hold a gun to her head and force an alliance; that was all her idea. He also doesn't appreciate being thrown into the same ideological pond with all the other scumbag samurai, but he suspects she didn't intend to make that implication.

So he either doesn't understand the problem, can't sympathize with the problem, or some combination of both. That being the case, her problem isn't something he can solve, especially with a sinus headache severe enough to feel like his last concussion.

 _She was so happy to go shopping,_ he thinks. _I need to remind her of that._

"So, Dororo." He bumps her shoulder with his own as they lead the horse through a patch of muddy ground, sodden from yesterday's rain. "Care to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You practically dragged me along on this trip, and now you're sulking. Something's wrong."

She makes a face. "It's wet. I'm annoyed."

It seems like more than that. His nose is running and his head pounds, but he can't use the cold as an excuse to let Dororo lie to him. "You sure?"

She sighs. "Well, it is wet. And I'm doing errands for Kagemitsu Daigo, a samurai lord. And my father was killed by samurai lords. Daigo fed you to demons. This doesn't make sense."

Hyakkimaru is tempted to say that all of that happened a long time ago, and that the past has at best a tenuous influence on current events (like ensuring Kaga's safety), but he gets the feeling that wouldn't help. He sighs, and the movement of his breath disturbs his sinuses, which feel puffy. "For what it's worth, I don't hate Daigo anymore," he says.

"You don't?" 

"Nah. Takes too much energy. I'd rather use it helping people. Daigo's tolerable when he's not starting wars with people, yeah?"

Dororo frowns deeply. "Is 'tolerable' enough for you?"

"Why does it have to be enough for me?"

"Well...y'know..." 

When Dororo goes quiet like this, Hyakkimaru knows that he's getting to the heart of the problem. Reticence and outrage are her two most reliable outlets for expressing true thoughts.

"I mean, you're family, right?" She looks at him with wide eyes, expecting agreement or confirmation of some sort.

"Not by blood, we're not," Hyakkimaru says. His head feels stuffed up with water and snot; he'd prefer not to talk, so he keeps his sentences short. "I'm not sure there's a good word for it. Definitely friends. Not exactly family." He frowns, too, thinking. "Does it matter? We are what we are." Hyakkimaru still knows Dororo as the second soul ever to not pass him by in the dark. He still doesn't know why she'd followed him then. He suspects he doesn't want to know the answer. She'd been a thief then.

Dororo nods. "Yes. I think it does."

"Is that what's bothering you?"

"Maybe."

He doesn't understand why sticking a label of some sort on their friendship is so important. Huffing out a breath that almost becomes a sneeze, he asks, "Will shopping help?"

"I have no idea, but right now, I just want dry socks."

"All right. We'll buy those first." He points a little ways ahead, where he sees the signal lights atop the wall surrounding Konzo. "We're almost there."

***

They do go to a tailor's first, sometime a little before noon. By the time they bow and enter the shop, Dororo is soaked through and shivering like crazy. Hyakkimaru's headache had faded in and out for most of the morning before settling at the front of his skull and sending out ripples of pain pain across his vision. They must appear as miserable as they feel, because the shop owner insists on taking them to the back of the store for hot heat and a seat next to the fire before they're encouraged to buy anything.

After tea, he and Dororo roam around the shop. She selects socks first: four pair of traveling socks in men's and women's sizes, and fancier tabi for Hitomi. While she does that, Hyakkimaru buys a few extra handkerchiefs; his sneezing has died down but his nose has been running continuously since the previous night. 

After she is done selecting socks, Dororo peruses the small stock of kimono carefully, touching only the hems of the garments lightly to determine quality, and Hyakkimaru stands to the side, somewhat bored. He's never actually bought clothes before. To him, they're just something that he wears until they rip too much or get too soiled to be washed or worn; then he dons the nearest garment and forgets completely about clothing again.

Dororo, though, seems practiced at selecting clothes. After she looks at all the kimono and touches the more expensive silk ones, she settles on a mostly red-and-white kimono embroidered with paradise birds and flowers that look a lot like the ones on the Asakura mon. "I think this will work," she says, pointing out the kimono to him. 

He nods, and asks the tailor how much it is. "30 gold mon coins," the tailor tells him. 

That's enough to feed Kaguya's entire household of more than twenty people for a year. He frowns and tells Dororo, "Not this one." She starts complaining, but he cuts her off before she gets too far: "You're using my money," he says. He selects a fabric about half as expensive as the one she selected, with a similar pattern. "If we buy the more expensive one, I'm not buying you lunch."

"Hm. That means you're not buying yourself any lunch, either, 'cuz I'd just take it."

"Yep."

Her eyes narrow. "You would do that? Why?"

He shrugs. "I like watching you suffer." He feels something wet drip down his nose.

"Mean."

"Spendthrift."

"Cheapskate."

Their eyes lock together for a few moments, and Dororo throws up her hands. "Fine, we'll buy the cheaper one. You owe me manjuu."

"I never promised you manjuu."

"Yes, but I'm insisting on it."

"...fine."

***

  
Manjuu isn't all that easy to find in Konzo. It's a street food or a sweet shop food, and those are usually open after the rainy season. So Hyakkimaru winds up leading Dororo to Kaguya's; they have anko and rice flour so he should be able to scrounge up something.

When Dororo asks why they're stopping in on Kaguya when they still have so much left to buy, he mumbles about the manjuu. 

Dororo scoffs at him. "I was just kidding about that! We can go back shopping, if you want."

"As if shopping was what I wanted at all..." 

"Okay, Mr. Mood, we'll say hi to Kaguya. I was going to before we left anyway."

Hyakkimaru and Dororo are both recognized at the entrance to the house, and permitted to pass, though the man on the door tells them Kaguya has gone out. Hyakkimaru heads for the kitchen and finds Tarou there grinding something with a mortar and pestle; he drops what he's doing and gets out rice flour, water, oil and anko to make manjuu for them. 

"I'll help," Hyakkimaru says. 

"You won't," Dororo says. "You're sick."

Hyakkimaru can't argue against that, so he looks to Tarou and says, "Sorry. I didn't want to give you more work..."

"Don't worry about it. I haven't had manjuu in ages, either. It would go faster with more people, though," he says, looking at Dororo.

"Oh, I can cook here? Yes!" Dororo pumps her fists up in the air. "I've never made manjuu before though...how do you do it?"

Tarou guides Dororo through the steps of creating the springy rice flour dough, and then they reconstitute the red bean paste from powder into something resembling the consistency of mousse. After the dough is made it needs to be rolled to a uniform thickness, and Tarou brings special spoons that are correctly sized to distribute the filling. Dororo spills anko all over herself and somehow gets it plastered to one side of her face, but she's smiling.

Once the bottom edges are sealed on the manjuu, Tarou puts them in the oven, already hot, to bake. These won't be like street vendor manjuu, which have a more bread-like consistency, but it's probably the best that can be managed on short notice.

While they wait for the faux manjuu to bake, Hyakkimaru asks how things have been in Konzo. "Quiet, for the most part," Tarou says, "though I've been hearing rumblings among the ex-Takeda rebels since Iwasa-san went away. You don't know when he's coming back, do you? If Akiko's not with you, she must be with him, and--"

"She's with him," Hyakkimaru says. "She hurt her leg a bit in the battle, but she's safe."

"Thank the gods for that." He peers into the oven, checking how much the buns have risen and if there's browning. "You wouldn't be able to stay for a while, would you? I don't really think it's unsafe or anything, but I'd feel better with either you or Iwasa here."

"Sorry," he says, and he means it, "but I made a promise, and I have to keep it before I come back. Akiko actually asked me to bring you with us, if you're able to go."

Tarou frowns. "I don't know if that's a good idea. Someone has to stay here with Kaguya-san."

Hyakkimaru lifts an eyebrow. "Kaguya can take care of herself, can't she?"

Tarou shrugs. "All I know is she's had new visitors every week. Sometimes male visitors bringing gifts. It's not her they're after, I think, but Konzo. With Iwasa-san gone it would be easy for someone to swoop in and take over."

"Konzo can't run without Iwasa's resources," Hyakkimaru says. His own are helpful too, but Iwasa is the one that does most of the actual governing. If someone did try to take over from him, they'd have a revolt on their hands.

"I know that and you know that, but the petty warlords on the road don't. Anyway I don't feel good about leaving her alone, and it's not like she can just leave either. That would be even worse."

Hyakkimaru nods. "I'll tell Iwasa to get back here as fast as possible when the wedding's over. Akiko's gonna be really disappointed, though."

"I know," Tarou says. "Thanks." Tarou checks the oven again, and declares the manjuu baked through; Dororo helps him remove them from the oven, then pokes them sulkily until they're cool enough to eat.

"Hey," Dororo says, "Maybe it's just something Iwasa said but...wouldn't it be safer for Kaguya if she and Iwasa were married?"

Tarou offers her a bitter smile. "Say that all you want, but I doubt it's going to happen."

"Why?"

Tarou's gaze shifts to Hyakkimaru, and lingers there for an uncomfortable moment.

Hyakkimaru sighs. He puts his hands up in a "not me" gesture and shakes his head. "Nope. Not marriage material. Iwasa would be a better fit if he learned some manners."

"I just think it's you that Kaguya likes," Tarou says with a little shrug.

"Marriage isn't about who you like," Hyakkimaru says, "it's about strategy. Politics. Who brings what to the table." He pauses. "I bring pretty much nothing except swordsmanship training, which is dime a dozen these days, so I've taken myself out of the running, thanks."

"Wish I could do that," Dororo says, resting her chin in one hand. 

"You can't," a woman's voice says from the doorway. 

Hyakkimaru looks up and sees Kaguya. Her eyes light up when she sees the manjuu cooling in the center of the table. She approaches and reaches for one, but quickly drops it when she realizes it's still too hot. "Plotting my demise without me, I see."

"I'm sorry, what?" Dororo asks.

Kaguya stares at the manjuu as if it's personally offended her. "You three. Plotting my marriage like some kind of game. Which it is," she says, steepling her fingers together with a thoughtful expression. "Well, I can tell you what I think. You're right that Iwasa is not a bad choice. He has status, money, charisma, and martial strength. He is also not a terrible person." She looks at Hyakkimaru. "Don't tell him I said that. I will put itching powder in your futon."

Hyakkimaru nods. "Sure, I promise."

"Now you," Kaguya says, "have all of Iwasa's advantages, are a genuinely kind and sympathetic person, at least when you're not cheerfully slaughtering all the enemies that try to attack you. I suspect your harsh upbringing had something to do with this strange duality in you. You also manage money and people better than Iwasa, though the advantage is slight. I favor you because you're capable, not because I like you." Kaguya stares at the manjuu on the table, still exhuming steam. "I don't like much of anyone. Including myself."

Dororo frowns. "Why, Kaguya-san? I like you."

"Me, too," Tarou puts in.

"You're sweet," Kaguya says, but the tone is cutting. "I'm a poor headman's daughter with some skill at management and governance. Pretty enough, I suppose, for those who care about such things. I will soon be considered too old to marry, and be forced to choose. But until then, I choose to stand on my own and prove my own worth as much as possible. That is the only way I know how to even try to like myself."

"Don't sell yourself short," Hyakkimaru says. "Iwasa and I couldn't have built up Konzo without you."

"And I never could have done it alone," Kaguya says. "I feel it is a weakness or a failure in me, that I needed so much help to do what needed doing. The least I can do is assert my own authority to improve other people's lives, before my choices are subsumed into house and household." 

Hyakkimaru thinks for a moment. "So the reason you shut down Iwasa is because you think he'll treat you like a wife instead of as an equal."

Kaguya nods gravely. "I still haven't given up on you. You're easier to reason with than he is."

Hyakkimaru laughs. "I'm too much like you, Kaguya. I value my own freedom too much to give it up for anything." 

"Me, too," Dororo says. 

Hyakkimaru is tempted to say that she doesn't have that choice, but he bites his tongue because talking about it won't change anything. Daigo is the arbiter of that choice, though something in him bucks at that because it feels wrong. Dororo should be able to choose, if it comes to it.

He picks up one of the manjuu. It is warm, not hot, and seeing this the others dig in as well.

"It's good!" Dororo says after taking the first bite. "You're a great cook, Tarou."

"Iwasa taught me that recipe," Tarou says proudly.

Kaguya smiles fondly and eats her manjuu. Hyakkimaru munches on his, slowly, as Tarou and Dororo move to clean up (being the youngest people present) and he and Kaguya discuss a grain shortfall in a nearby village caused by a blight on the rice crop. By the time they finish drafting a plan to move supplies around to account for the shortfall it is late, and Kaguya invites Hyakkimaru and Dororo to stay over.

"Sure," Dororo says, and Hyakkimaru nods, his headache almost gone, though his new handkerchiefs already need washing from the persistent nasal drip caused by his cold. "We'll finish shopping tomorrow."

***

That night, settled into her guest room futon in Kaguya's house, Dororo has a dream.

In it, her father is carrying her on his back despite his bloody thighs and bruised calves; her mother helps support him, and the ride is bumpy and rough. Dororo does not cry; somehow she knows better than to cry in this situation, and the jolting and rocking feels somehow familiar and safe.

They're on a road, her family, traveling away from Kaga through fields of rice that had already been harvested; her mother goes through the threshing piles and accumulates as many leftover grains of rice as she can in a small bag. She shucks the grains as they walk, and her father offers her wild blackberries, and they're the most delicious thing she's ever had. She loves them. She loves her parents.

In the strange half-formed time of dreams, recalling this love makes her skip forward to the time her father took a dozen arrows to protect her and her mother; how she and her mother had been forced to flee and leave him without burial for weeks. When they'd returned his face had been eaten by insects; only the wounds to his legs and the size of his frame had made him recognizable. She and her mother had not been strong enough to build a grave, so they had used the last of their money to purchase a marker from a priest and ask for a service for him.

Then it's the long spring after. Spring is a good time to find food; berries and mushrooms and roots and insects, in addition to grain and fish in villages. She and her mother had done all right until summer, when her mother had sold her last kimono aside from the one she wore to buy enough rice to make it through the season, only to have it confiscated by local tax collectors. Dororo had been too young at the time to understand fully what was happening, but not too young to understand extreme hunger. Itachi's cruelty at denying her mother so much as a simple bowl makes her thrash so violently in her sleep that she wakes up, blinking out an afterimage of spider lilies and her mother's cold glassy eyes.

She remembers the dream vividly, and bites down anger and bitterness as she recovers from it. Why would she have that dream? Why now?

As she thinks it, she knows: her life's path has not been this uncertain or unstable since Daigo's last war, another war between the Asakura and Kaga. History is repeating itself and she and Hyakkimaru are at the center of it again and she doesn't know any way through it except to keep doing what she's doing, however inadequate that feels.

She somehow feels more like a child now than she did then. She can't just run away to a land without war with Hyakkimaru anymore. For better or worse, she has to face what comes next without turning aside.

Her breathing calms down and she stops crying. She hears a gentle tap on her rice paper door; a servant come to check on her maybe.

"Dororo," Hyakkimaru whispers in the dark. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she says at a normal volume.

"I see." A pause. "It just sounded like--that dream again."

"I'm fine." She's not fine. He remembers. Of course he does. She rolls over on her futon. "You can come in."

He slides the rice paper door open and closed, and stands in the corner of her room, some distance away. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

He huffs a gentle laugh. "Figures. You have that dream often, still?"

"No," she says. "This is the first time in almost ten years."

Silence.

"Can I help?"

She sighs and looks at the ceiling. "I don't suppose there's a convenient country next door for us to run to."

"Hm," he says, leaning into the corner of the room, face entirely hidden. "If you want a short life and a quick death, maybe. Besides, I never pegged you for a coward."

"Huh?"

"Back then, running to the country next door was the only way to survive," he says. "But now a lot of people depend on you. They need you. Running away lets them down and diminishes you. It's the coward's way out. So tell me," he says, "what are you trying to run from?"

"I don't know," she says. Growing up. Becoming Kaguya. Being shackled to duty and honor and all that other samurai horseshit. Losing choices. Losing Hyakkimaru, when he finally runs away from her again.

"You'll figure it out," he says. "But I'm pretty sure this is a situation of stand-and-fight--not run-and-hide."

She looks toward him in the dark. "How sure is 'pretty sure'?"

"Hm, maybe eighty percent sure."

"What's the other twenty percent?"

"My head cold. Your nightmare woke me up and now I can't breathe. Makes it hard to think."

"Oh, yeah," she says. She settles herself more comfortably on her futon. "Sorry about that."

"You don't control the weather," he says. There's a slight pause. "Do you need me to say?"

The 'yes' is on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. "No, I'm fine. Go back to sleep." 

He nods, and she hears the rice paper door open and shut as he leaves and returns to his own room. She lets out a deep breath, and out with it come the words, "Please stay," and she suddenly understands her problem.

She wants Hyakkimaru to stay with her.

Of course, this is obvious; she's always felt that way. But with Hitomi's marriage imminent and similar pressures falling on Kaguya, Dororo's own situation has come into sharper focus. As soon as Daigo's wedding is over, Hyakkimaru is going to just be--gone. In Konzo, and bouncing between Takeda lands and Kaga. She might see him every year or two if she's lucky. Her stomach clenches on the thought that after she is married, she might never see him at all.

She doesn't want that.

She doesn't want to marry Hyakkimaru either, because that's not what he wants, and because it wouldn't be allowed anyway. But she'd take marriage, even a disinherited one, over being forced to live without him for another decade.

"What am I going to do?" she asks herself. 

Although she tries, she doesn't sleep at all for the rest of the night.


	12. Makie

Daigo Kagemitsu married Ishikawa Nuinokata when he was sixteen years old. Uncharacteristically, she'd been older than him: meant to wed his oldest brother who had died in a battle the same year. All of his other brothers had already been married, so the marriage contract had been hastily rewritten to preserve the alliance that the Daigo clan had created with Ishikawa. His claim to power in Kaga had come through her, and he doesn't forget it.

He also doesn't forget her, though the memory of her face has faded with time and the passing of years. There are times when Dororo reminds him of her, fidgeting over embroidery or lighting incense with an oddly feminine grace, but she is clearly not the same person and the slight resemblances are doubtless because they are both women with increasingly similar skill sets. Certainly, she's reminded Daigo of his dead wife more as she's grown up and learned to carry herself properly--at least when important people are watching.

What he doesn't tell anyone is how closely Hyakkimaru resembles Nuinokata. Hyakkimaru has Daigo's eyes; they are his color and possess the same burning intensity, especially in rage, but the rest of his face, his build, and even his voice resemble his mother's more closely than Daigo's. This is one of the reasons he doesn't like having Hyakkimaru near him--one of many, but it's perhaps the most personal. He may not have loved his wife in a typical way, but now that he's facing down the prospect of marriage again, he finds that something in him misses her. Having Hyakkimaru nearby makes it feel like her ghost has returned to haunt him. 

So he doesn't object too strongly when Dororo offers to lead Hyakkimaru away to buy the more perishable wedding goods that are needed for a respectable ceremony. Having Hyakkimaru out of sight for final wedding negotiations is likely for the best, anyhow. He spends the time helping Takeda Iwasa keep the Asakura army contained in Amagi and trying to tamp down his general frustration with Asakura Hitomi. 

Asakura Hitomi is nothing like Nuinokata: not in looks, not in personality, and not in mannerisms; she is older, toughened and intelligent, and overall not a bad match. Part of him is relieved by this because he will not be plagued by lingering feelings or resentment from his first marriage when it comes to to her, but it also makes it more difficult to know how he should treat her. Hyakkimaru's glares during strategy sessions and war councils communicate clearly that his son thinks he's treating her too harshly, but those glares only make him want to snap at her more. In an odd way, he feels like he's being scolded by his ex-wife about his treatment of his wife-to-be. 

The feeling makes his skin crawl. He wants Hyakkimaru about a hundred miles away from him in any neighboring province: far enough away to stop causing trouble for him. But Dororo would follow him, and that's another problem that he has to solve.

He has considered the idea of Hyakkimaru marrying Dororo seriously. He's had to, since rumors had circulated in Kaga the previous year. But it's impossible. Hyakkimaru is a ronin. For such a match to even be remotely acceptable he'd have to regain his clan rank (over the bodies of family members and clan retainers he'd killed), and if he did that he'd depose Dororo. He'd become Kaga's heir again, but a marriage to Dororo in that case would be politically useless.

That's assuming Hyakkimaru would even agree to have his clan rank restored. He won't.

Daigo has also considered ways of keeping Hyakkimaru and Dororo in close contact without marriage, because keeping Dororo happy past adulthood also has advantages for him. Hyakkimaru could enter her husband's service, guard her, lead part of her army, run her infrastructure program. But then he'd have to leave Konzo to the rule of Takeda Iwasa exclusively, and leave the life he'd built up behind. If Daigo were in that position he'd refuse, no matter how important the friend asking the favor of him. 

So he'd settled on the option of remarrying, getting another heir, and giving Dororo a greater range of options. Optimistically, he'd hoped to make her a diplomat to the surrounding provinces until the new heir came of age, with Hyakkimaru and Takeda as security and support, but with the current situation so unstable he's had to reconsider.

Dororo has to marry, and soon. Someone from the Asakura clan with existing ties to Kaga would be best. If he doesn't quell the rebellion now, Kaga will run short of resources before winter--and if that happens the tenuous peace he's built up over the better part of a decade will collapse.

He asks Hitomi for a range of suitable candidates, but all of them are older than Dororo by decades or younger than her to the point of barely being able to walk unassisted--except one.

"I suppose that makes it easy, then," Hitomi says with her eyes down, offering him Kurakawa Kouhei's name on a piece of paper. "If I remember right, though, he has a common-law wife. You'll want to look into that before you arrange the match."

Daigo nods. "That is good to know. May I ask the source of your information?" 

The politeness of his tone makes her look up a little. The scar bisecting her face catches the light. "Your spy Kurakawa Yamoto told me some," she says, "and Hyakkimaru-san told me that he met Kouhei-san in the camp with the war prisoners. I am told he is recovering well, and that a woman will not leave his side." She purses her lips. "This may be a problem I am an better equipped to handle than you, Daigo-sama."

"Can you? See to it, then," he says, hoping that she's as capable as she presents herself to be. "And if there are any problems, let me know. I would like Dororo's wedding to take place shortly after we return to Kaga."

Hitomi nods. "Forgive my presumption, Daigo-sama, but...I know Dororo-sama well. She may fight you on this." A pause. "I have a suggestion that may help smooth the way."

"Oh? I'm listening."

Hitomi bows her head and begins to speak, slowly and carefully, and Daigo scratches his chin thoughtfully. He'd hoped that getting a new wife would help him solve a number of existing problems. Maybe that hope isn't completely unfounded.

***

When Dororo wakes up in the morning it's raining, so Tarou has messengers run into town to buy fabric for clothes and decorations, furniture, incense, tea and other wedding necessities while Dororo huddles near the irori with her shoulders hunched in. Tarou puts a pot of water over the sunken hearth of the irori to boil and asks if she's caught a cold, too, but she shakes her head; she's not sick, just tired.

She's also a little disappointed that she won't get to do much more shopping here. They have to pick up the makie--enameled wooden boxes full of seashells, for the wedding ceremony itself--in person, but the rest can be collected by messengers. They have to leave today if they're going to meet Dororo's four-day deadline. She's not looking forward to traveling again in this miserable weather.

Tarou brings her tea rice with milk as a warm breakfast. Aside from the Takeda guards, they're alone in the kitchen, and she asks where everyone else is.

"Hyakkimaru went out early to check on some things with Kaguya," Tarou says. "I think some houses got damaged by the rain. He asked if you were up before he left, but when I told him you were sleeping he just said to make breakfast when you got up. And that he'd be back by late morning."

"Ah, okay. Thanks." She would have liked to help plan repairs for Konzo, but she's probably not in any condition for that at the moment. She sighs and brings her knees up to her chest.

"Dororo-san? Are you sure you're not sick?"

"Huh? No. Why?"

Tarou tilts his head. "There's something wrong with you, though, isn't there?"

Dororo lets out another long breath, and says, "I have a problem, and no way to solve it. It kept me up all night."

"What kind of problem?"

Dororo tries to frame her question in neutral terms. "Hyakkimaru told me that you and Akiko are like siblings," she says. Tarou nods in confirmation. "What would you do if--if someone told you that you could never see Akiko again?"

Tarou's face goes a shade paler. "That wouldn't happen. We're family. Hyakkimaru wouldn't let us be separated like that. Not forever."

She nods. She should have expected an answer like that.

If only she and Hyakkimaru were actually family. She wouldn't have this problem then. She settles her chin on her knees. "I'm just asking, hypothetically. What would you do?"

"Hm." He thinks for a moment, then pours her more tea as he answers: "Well, I'd have to assume that Akiko was looking for me. It's--kind of a terrifying thought. Akiko is like one of those hunting dogs they use to find runaway slaves. She doesn't stop until she finds her target. So in that case, the best thing I could do would be to stay in one place long enough to let her find me." He nods firmly. "If it were me and I couldn't get to Akiko--which seems unlikely--my best move would be to track her to her last known location with Hyakkimaru, and maybe a few demons. It would be hard, but Hyakkimaru could definitely find her."

Dororo hugs her knees tightly. This isn't helping. "And what if Hyakkimaru wasn't there to help you?"

The skin around Tarou's eyes goes soft, making him look much younger than he is for a few moments. "I think I understand," he says. He looks away from her, down to the floor, and says, "I don't need to imagine a world where Hyakkimaru isn't there. I've lived it. I wouldn't want it for myself, either." He looks at her again and says, "But I don't think things will turn out the way you're thinking."

"What way is that?"

"You never seeing him again. You're too important."

Dororo lifts her bowl with the tea rice and slurps. "I don't feel important."

"Hyakkimaru always knew where you were," Tarou says.

Dororo almost drops her rice bowl. "What?"

"When I was a kid," he says, "he'd get news from Kaga wherever we stopped. He heard about what you were doing there. He talked about it with Iwasa, sometimes, when Konzo was expanding--how we could use improved relations with Enuma and everything." He nods. "I--didn't really understand all of it at the time, so I don't remember everything, but. Well, I think that if you had actually been in trouble he would have tried to help you." He smiles faintly. "So I wouldn't worry about things like that."

That isn't what she's worried about. She's old enough and capable enough that she no longer needs someone else saving her from physical peril, and she doesn't like the idea of her and Hyakkimaru's relationship being reduced to something so transactional and simple as search-and-rescue. 

She worries that the social walls that are closing around her will imprison her in a world that Hyakkimaru cannot enter. She frowns a little, because until Tarou had said it she had never even considered the idea of Hyakkimaru checking up on her during her long abandonment. She remembers she didn't let him say much for himself the last time she'd broached the subject.

She takes a few bites of her tea rice, swallows, and faces Tarou again. "You're right," she says even though she doesn't agree with his reasoning; not completely. He hasn't given her an answer to her problem, but he has given her an opening to strengthen--or repair--the friendship she currently has. As long as that bond doesn't break, she really doesn't need to be too worried.

***

"Asakura-sama," Kurakawa Kouhei says, going into a deep bow before her. "Takeda-sama," he adds, bowing again to the border lord acting as her guard. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I heard you were wounded," Hitomi says. "I wanted to check on your recovery, and ask if you required anything."

"Asakura-sama is kind," he says. "I lack nothing. My wounds are almost completely healed. I look forward to fighting alongside Daigo-sama in the near future."

She smiles a tiny, coy smile: one she'd learned from her mother for use in times when she didn't want to give too much of her true thoughts away. "I am glad to hear it, though of course I don't wish for further bloodshed, under the circumstances."

Next to her, Takeda Iwasa briefly straightens his posture. Kouhei blanches for a moment, as if realizing how easily his statement could be misunderstood. "Nor do I, Asakura-sama. I grieve that matters have come to this...I haven't even had a chance to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding, or offer you a wedding gift, or..." He spreads his hands and offers her an expression that looks like genuine regret.

 _Tactless,_ she thinks, _but promising._

She blinks once, slowly, and puts on a face like a mask of pain that's more than half-genuine. "You are too kind, cousin," she says. "I am delighted by your recovery, but I am terrified for our family. There are so few of us left, and if we fail here we may lose the province to outsiders."

Kouhei frowns deeply. "Daigo-sama has promised to keep leadership of the province with the Asakura clan after your marriage."

"That is only if there is a marriage," Takeda Iwasa cuts in abruptly, and she shushes him with a hand gesture. He shrugs and stands tall with his hands at his sides.

"Iwasa-sama is right, I'm afraid," Hitomi says. "Some day, I may tell you the story of how I got here--the assassination attempts, the time I spent captured, and those unpleasant details. But not now," she says. "Now, I need your help. Our family needs this marriage. If it doesn't happen, we lose everything."

Kouhei leans toward her with a deadly serious expression. "I am at your disposal, Asakura-sama," he says. "Tell me what you need me to do."

 _Easily led_ , she thinks. That's fine for now, but it could prove to be a problem. She decides to run a few options past Daigo later. As she suspected, this part of the negotiation is best left to her.

"Daigo-sama has decided that the bond between our clans will not be strong enough with just our marriage. I agree. Consequently, we have decided to marry his heir to someone within the Asakura clan."

Kouhei nods rapidly. "Oh, I see. I understand completely. I think it's a wonderful idea. He might marry Sachiko-san, perhaps, or one of your southern cousins--"

Hitomi gives him a look that comes dangerously close to being a glare. Kouhei gets the message and shuts up without being asked. _Perceptive,_ she thinks. _Good._ "You have been out of clan politics for quite some time due to injury, and the succession of the Daigo clan has never been our chief preoccupation, so you may be forgiven for not knowing that Daigo-sama's heir is a girl named Dororo. She is about three years short of coming of age, but I'm afraid the situation here has brought matters to a head."

Kouhei swallows a lump in his throat. "Asakura-sama," he says quietly, "am I right in assuming that the only male Asakura heir of marriageable age with ties to the Daigo clan is...me?"

 _Smart,_ she thinks. Whether that's good or bad, she can't yet tell.

"You are correct," she says, "but it's not quite that simple. Assuming you agree to the match, there are a few additional requirements. Would you like to hear them now?"

Kouhei sighs. "As you wish. I will do whatever I can to help you save the clan."

_Good. That's what I like to hear._

***

Hyakkimaru returns a little before noon, soaking wet and looking harried; he excuses himself to change before they pick up the makie, and Dororo sincerely hopes they won't be late.

They enter the lacquerware shop under umbrellas and dry off briefly near the entrance while the shop attendants assemble their makie boxes. There are two of them, each with eight sides; they're varnished brown-black with gold and red designs embedded in or painted on the lacquer. 

After presenting them, the shop proprietor insists that the inspect the quality of the box construction, the content of the decoration, and the number of shells in each box, though Dororo tries to tell him that's not necessary; they'd only come to pick up the boxes and pay, after all.

The shop owner leaves them alone anyway. Dororo looks at Hyakkimaru, who shrugs. "I guess we count seashell halves now." He opens the box in front of him, and begins to count.

Dororo does the same with her box, and takes out a perfectly smooth shell which had been cut in half; on the inside is a picture of a sparrow done in exquisite detail, with a partial quote from a poet she can scarcely read. 

"What are these things, anyway?" Dororo asks.

Hyakkimaru pauses in his counting and raises an eyebrow. "Have you never been to a wedding before?"

"Not one for important people," she says. "I've been to receptions and stuff, but usually only family is actually in the wedding ceremony, and Daigo's been my only family for--well, a while." She holds up the painted half-shell to the light of an oil lamp with a look of fascination.

Hyakkimaru holds another half-shell in the palm of his hand. "I've only seen a few, in town. During the ceremony the bride and groom exchange these boxes. This one," he says, pointing to a crane symbol on the lid of the box in front of him, "is probably for Daigo--cranes are for longevity and good luck--and this," he says, pointing to the box with a plum tree on it that Dororo is standing in front of, "is the one for Hitomi."

"But what's the point? Why cut them in half?"

"There should be an even number of shells," he says, "but it's always some ridiculous amount. Over a hundred per box. One of the half-shells from each box is supposed to fit together, but I've never seen that. The rest of them are deliberate mismatches. See?" He holds out his shell, and she holds out hers, and the sparrow and text on her shell matches up with a representation of clouds and sun on his, along with one of the sparrow's wings. She frowns, and reads: "I feel like life is too sad to bear, but I can't fly away since I'm not a bird." She grins up at Hyakkimaru. "A little on the nose, don't you think?"

Then she realizes that she and Hyakkimaru have pulled the only matching shells out of the boxes, and every muscle in her body freezes. Carefully, slowly, pretending this means nothing (doesn't it mean nothing? It's probably just coincidence), she huffs a little laugh and says, "Well, at least we know they gave us the matching one." And she tosses her shell back in the plum tree box.

"...yeah."

"Um," she says, curious despite herself, "there's not some kind of symbolism or superstition in finding the matching shell, is there?"

"There is," he says mildly.

"What is it?"

He rests a hand on her shoulder and gives her a sad smile. "You don't want to know. Come on. Let's get that lazy shopkeeper back over here so we can pay. I want to get back to Amagi as soon as we can."

***

After running through the initial draft of the betrothal contract Hitomi had drawn up the previous night, Kouhei's shoulders collapse in. "Asakura-sama--no, please, let me call you Hitomi-sama at least. I would like to talk to you as family, for this conversation. Please."

Hitomi isn't sure she likes the sound of that, but honesty is almost certainly better expressed now than later. "By all means, Kouhei-san. You may call me Hitomi-san, if you wish."

"Thank you," he says. "It's just, reading this contract...it makes it look like the girl is going to try to bolt. There are all these conduct rules, and not all of them are standard here-are they standard in Kaga? Should I be worried about someone trying to steal Dororo-sama away from me?"

Hitomi decides that she likes the informal Kouhei better than the scrupulously polite version, though she doesn't tell him so. "Dororo-sama may be abducted or taken by enemies. It is a risk. She may also try to leave of her own volition. That is also a risk. This contract exists to inform you of these risks, and steps to mitigate them. If you have additional suggestions, they would be welcome, even encouraged." 

Hitomi pauses and steeples her fingers. "We are speaking honestly and as family here, so I will not withhold this from you. Dororo-sama is well-trained as a wife, but better-trained as a fighter, architect and engineer." Kouhei's eyes widen, but he does not interrupt. "Limiting her to the household would be intensely stifling for her. And," she says, "she has a very old friend from childhood whom she will want to visit on occasion. A male friend. This could be misconstrued. It has been misconstrued in the past.

"That is why I am trying to be as honest with you as possible."

Kouhei nods shakily. "I appreciate that, I do, but it's not like you're giving me a choice, Hitomi-san." He stares at the floor, and it looks like the weight of the Asakura clan's fallen pride is on his shoulders.

She smiles at him, though he doesn't see it. "Actually, I am," she says. "Look here." She points to a place on the contract. "This is only for betrothal. Dororo will not marry for two more years. A lot can happen in that time, as you well know."

He nods, frowning. "What's important right now is that the Daigo clan and Asakura clan appear to be united against the rebels." He looks up, back at her. "I am willing to do that for you, Hitomi-san."

"You are willing to sign this betrothal contract?" she asks.

"Yes." He nods sharply.

"You are willing to enter omiai with Dororo Daigo-sama?"

"Yes," he says again.

"Good," she says. "Then there's only one more thing I must ask of you."

Kouhei flinches but does not complain. "What is it, Hitomi-san?"

"I need you to abandon your lover," she says. "If Daigo finds out who she is, he'll have her killed."

Kouhei hangs his head. "I--expected that. Give me a little time."

Hitomi nods, and says, "How much time?"

"Until," he says, practically stutters, "until--your wedding, Hitomi-san. I will cut ties with her immediately, of course, but I may not get her to listen to reason for--well, a while."

Hitomi hms thoughtfully. "If she does not accept your explanation, you are free to send her to me. I do not like to see another woman suffer," she says, "and I will do all I can to ensure she has a place somewhere, even if it's no longer by your side."

"Thank you, cousin," Kouhei says, and it seems that he means it. He may be genuinely in love with this woman. She supposes that's her next problem to solve.

"Send her to me when it's convenient," she says. "I may already have a job for her."

***

Dororo and Hyakkimaru up the makie in a hurry after that, asking for waterproof cloth to keep the boxes in in case of another downpour on their way back to Amagi. They walk back to Kaguya's in almost perfect silence with a cold wind blowing at their backs and storm clouds gathering overhead. The atmosphere feels tight enough to snap in half.

Hyakkimaru goes in before her to make their goodbyes while she packs away the makie and starts preparing the horses. She hears the pattering of rain overhead as she works, and knows that getting back to Amagi will be at least as hard as traveling to Konzo and groans internally.

Dororo looks up from brushing the cart horse when Hyakkimaru opens the door to the stable. "I don't want to go back," she says, grumbling as she picks a burr off the cart horse's butt.

"You were the one who wanted to go shopping," he says, setting aside a boxed lunch for them, probably from Kaguya or maybe Tarou.

"Fine, rub it in. See if I care."

Hyakkimaru approaches her and the horse and attaches a simple bridle over the horse's face. They have a bit, but Hyakkimaru doesn't use it. He starts leading the horse toward their cart, two-thirds full, and begins hitching up the horse. 

Dororo takes the other side, and says, "You agreed to go with me."

"You asked me to," he says, pulling a girth strap to finger-tightness, not hard enough to leave marks in the skin of the horse.

"Since when do you do what I ask you to?"

"It seemed like you really wanted to go," he says, not looking at her; he's verifying the evenness and tightness of the straps that connect the horse to the frame of the wagon. "Daigo clearly wanted me gone. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Meaning you think it wasn't a good idea now?"

Hyakkimaru moves away from the cart and around her, retrieving a long bolt of fabric that appears shiny on one side. He unfurls it and starts tacking the fabric on one side of the wagon, shiny-side up. He tosses the half-rolled bolt of cloth over the other side of the wagon, and she retrieves pins from a pile near Hyakkimaru's feet and starts tacking the other side.

"You're not going to answer me?"

"You're argumentative. We don't have time." He looks away from his work, directly at her. "I don't know what set this off, but be mad at me later. C'mon."

Well, when he's right he's right. She sighs, and the two of them push the stable doors open against a cascade of mud and water, climb in the cart and begin their miserable journey back.

It's slow going, even in Konzo where the roads are decent. Dororo opens the box lunch that was packed for them and lets Hyakkimaru steer for a while, waiting for the rain to stop. The shiny fabric they'd tacked on over the top of the wagon does seem to be shedding quite a bit of water; Hyakkimaru offers to take shifts so they can take turns getting dry.

"I bought extra towels and blankets when I went out this morning," he says. "I thought they'd come in handy."

Dororo nods gratefully and moves toward the back of the wagon, where there's enough space--barely--to stretch out and lie flat. She manages to unfold one of the new cotton blankets so that it covers the floor, then lies down with another blanket over her, and before she knows it, she falls asleep.

She wakes up some time later to the sound of a keening wind, so sharp and high-pitched it makes her eardrums ring. She sits bolt upright and bangs her head on something full force, letting out a frustrated "Ow!" at the same time Hyakkimaru calls out, "Are you okay?"

She gets to her feet, rubbing her head. "I'm fine. Maybe a little brain-damaged. Where are we? You weren't supposed to let me fall asleep..."

"You looked like you could use it," he says. "We're getting close to the tunnels we stayed in last time. I found a place to tie up the horse, but I didn't want to leave him miserable out in the rain again, so," he trails off, holding up another tarp. "I'm going to make a tent."

"What good will that do?" she groans in exasperation.

He leaps down, out of the wagon. "Put this side on the ground," he says as if he hasn't heard her. "I'm going to tack this one over the wagon itself. The horse can shelter along the sides. Help me."

"Fine."

They get the tarps installed. They need to tie two of them together at the corners to get something wide enough for the horse to shelter under, but they manage, and Hyakkimaru fastens two other tarps at the front and back corners of the wagon, sealing off the inside of it from the rain. 

The wind dies down almost immediately. She touches the fabric covering the front of the wagon and feels that it's strangely dry, but also somewhat slippery, like it's been oiled. Hyakkimaru uses some kind of sticky substance to reinforce the fastenings at the corners, then leans against the side of the wagon. 

"How many tarps did you buy, anyway?" Dororo asks.

"Enough, and that's what matters." He uses his hands to navigate in the dark, searching for the clear clean spot between all the boxes and wedding gifts. The rain splashes against the tarps above and to the side of the wagon with a surprising amount of force, but nothing leaks.

"I'm glad you did. This is a lot better." She sprawls out on the ground and gets up on her side so that there will be room for him to lie down too. "How did you even know this would work?"

He shrugs. "I spent a few years being homeless before I met you. Don't you remember?"

She sits up. "No. You never told me much about that." 

He faces toward her, apparently having located her in the dark, and starts picking his way over boxes. "Hm," he says, "let's see. What do you want to know? We have some time before the storm goes down."

 _Tell me everything_ , she almost says, but while they do have time, there is not time for that. 

"You never told me much about Jukai," she says.

"Not much to tell that you don't already know," he says. "Kaname could tell you more; I didn't actually get to talk to him much." He pivots on one foot, and the other one lands next to her, and then he squats, sits, and stretches his legs out so that they're facing one another, her sitting near the back of the space and him sitting near the front. 

Their legs bump as he stretches out. Dororo is suddenly very aware of how close they are sitting, and while it isn't as uncomfortable as she'd feared, there is a nagging impulse in her that worries about what this looks like. She decides to ignore it until she actually does feel uncomfortable.

She shifts her feet a little, trying to create more room for them, and her toes bump against something hard. "Gods dammit," she mutters, and Hyakkimaru chuckles as he turns to check for damage--to her feet and to the wedding gifts. "You okay? Any toes broken?"

"Ha ha. I'm fine. More important, did I break anything?" she asks, leaning forward to take a look at what Hyakkimaru is examining. It's the plum tree makie box. "Oh," she says. "Those again. Are we sure those aren't bad luck, or something?"

Hyakkimaru doesn't speak for a few seconds. Then: "I agree with you, but we can't have the wedding without them and there's no time to make another."

"We can't have the wedding without this thing? It's that important?" she asks as she reaches down to rub her rapidly swelling toe.

"The matching shells get exchanged in the ceremony. It's not as important as drinking and swearing before the gods, but it's close. I'm not sure the marriage would be accepted as legitimate without it."

"Hm. Sounds like it would be tacky to leave it out, then." Then she thinks a little longer about what he said, and all pain in her foot vanishes as she asks in shock: "So the shells...were telling us to get married?"

He sighs. "Never take advice from seashells. They can't even talk."

"Don't be glib about this. You just said that people care about that stuff."

"Superstitious people, maybe." He leans close enough to her in the dark that she can see his face clearly. "If you're going to try to argue that we should get married so that I can't run back to Konzo when this is all over, think again. We can always write letters, and I'll visit when I pass through Enuma, and you can come and see me when you're in Konzo. Okay?"

She doesn't say anything. Really, what he's saying should be enough. They've already talked about this, before, with Kaguya. Finding the matching shell is probably just some stupidly unlucky coincidence. 

"Why everyone wants to marry me all of a sudden is beyond me," he mutters, leaning back into shadow again.

"Huh?"

"Counting that one crazy woman at the army camp, you're my third proposal this month. My head's kind of spinning with it." He leans forward again. "Dororo. I don't want to get married. It's nothing personal against you. I--just don't think it's something I can do. With anyone."

"Why?"

"There are reasons," he says, "but me saying I can't should be enough." He looks at her, frowning, and says, "Do you really need to know?"

"I want to know," she says.

He pushes himself as far away from her as he can in the darkness, far enough away that she can no longer read his expression easily, though their legs are still touching. Rain gushes above them in sheets and waves. When he begins speaking again, his voice is soft and barely carries over the sound of the rain. 

"First, and most important from your perspective, I have no real social or political status. I have friends who have those things, but I don't. Second, and most important to me, is that when I was in the army camp, one of the camp women tried to seduce me." A pause. "Clumsily. _Very_ clumsily. I picked her up and threw her away from me." He chuckles. 

"I--" A long pause. "I don't understand sex, for power or procreation or any of the other reasons for it," Hyakkimaru says. "I don't like it or want it. It's not something I could give you, not easily. The more I think about it, the more it makes me want to run for the hills. So." He shifts his legs under him slightly, nervous energy presenting itself. "Still want to marry me?"

"I--" She doesn't know. That's a lot to confess to a person. What's most surprising to her is that she often feels the same way. Sex, attraction, and seduction aren't things she understands well either. "Shouldn't you become a priest or something, if you feel that way?"

"I could if I wanted to, but I haven't needed the Buddha so far. If I ever need him, I'll look him up." 

She snorts a laugh out of her nose. "I wonder what Biwamaru would say."

Hyakkimaru cracks his knuckles, looking at his hands. "He still thinks I'm cursed," Hyakkimaru says. "For all I know, I might be. Even if I'm not now, I was for a long time." He pauses, and looks up at the tarp above them shaking in the rain. "You know, it's funny. Iwasa and Akiko and Tarou, Kaguya even, have a fair idea of what happened to me, but you're the only one who actually saw it--all of it. Even Jukai didn't--" He looks at her. "Why didn't you run, like everyone else?"

"Idiot. Like I had anywhere else to run to." He flinches, and she continues in a softer voice, "Honestly? You saved my life. From those thugs. And that demon." She leans her head against the boxes stacked up behind her. "I'd never met anyone like you. So powerful, yet so limited."

"You mean crippled?"

"No," she says, "I never thought of you like that. Never think that," she says in a rush of breath. "What I mean by that is--is that you could have gone down the road of a lot of people who have lost limbs. You could have given up, retired from the world, hidden behind Jukai. Instead," she says, drawing her knees up to her chin, "you learned to work around your physical limitations. See without seeing. Hear without hearing. And I just thought there was no way I'd ever be able to do something like that, but...I don't know. You made me want to try."

He tilts his head in confusion. "Try what?"

"To do something amazing," she says with a firm nod. "To push myself past my limitations. Do something to make my parents proud."

"And have you?" 

She closes her eyes and breathes. "I'm glad I saved Enuma," she says, "but I'm still trying to transcend myself. I might not ever be done pushing myself."

Hyakkimaru laughs, and she opens her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that--neither will I. Be done, I mean. Pushing myself." He sighs. "Let's go to sleep."

Dororo stretches out one way and he stretches out the other way, and the two of them manage to share the blanket between them in reasonably equal share. It's warm, and the sound of the rain is soothing, and she falls asleep in moments. 

When Dororo wakes up the next morning it's still raining. She untacks part of the tarp covering the front of the wagon to go outside and feed the horse when she gets the shock of her life: a swart gray-green face with gills staring at her at eye level just outside the wagon. Six gill lines on either side of its face flutter in the cold wind.

Dororo bites her lip before she screams, and realizes the figure is oddly familiar.

"Tokku," Hyakkimaru says, shifting on the floor to face the kappa. "It's good to see you."

  
***

Kawakura Kouhei's lover is a young woman named Kyouko. The set of her shoulders and the state of her kimono make her appear promiscuous and undignified at first glance, but Hitomi knows that appearances can be deceiving. 

Kyouko bows low when she enters and waits for acknowledgement before she raises her head. Hitomi gestures her forward and invites her to pour tea, and Hitomi takes a few sips in silence before saying, "Please forgive me, Kyouko-san, but I do not know your family name. Would you be kind enough to tell me?"

Kyouko blushes a little. "I don't have one, Asakura-sama. I was born in Hika. My mother was a dyer. I came to this camp when I was young, and was raised by the women here. Forgive me."

Hitomi smiles inwardly, because this just got a lot easier.

"There is nothing to forgive, Kyouko-san," she says. "You may call me Hitomi-sama. I would like us to be friends."

Kyouko's eyes widen with surprise. "You would, Asakura-sa--I mean, Hitomi-sama?"

"I would," she says. "I have heard that you are on good terms with my cousin Kouhei. I would like you to tell me more about that arrangement."

Kyouko blushes from head to toe. "For what purpose, Hi-hi-hitomi-sama?"

"I need your help," Hitomi says gravely. "My cousin must marry to prevent a war. You know him better than anyone else, do you not?"

Kyouko's blush goes a shade deeper, and she says, "Perhaps I do, Hitomi-sama. But I am not entirely sure what you are asking."

Hitomi doesn't want to be more blunt than she's been, lest this conversation be overheard or reported back to Kouhei. "In exchange for your help, I would reward you," she says levelly.

Kyouko sucks in a harsh breath. "I think I understand, Hitomi-sama." She looks up at her, into her eyes, brazen to the point of rudeness. "But I do not think that I can help you."

"Is that so? How unfortunate." 

She dismisses Kyouko with a little frown, but she is not discouraged. A woman without so much as a family name defying the Asakura and Daigo clan's wishes strikes her as faintly amusing. She wants to talk to Daigo before she makes her next move.

***

"You know, demons aren't so bad, once you get to know them," Dororo says with a little laugh as Tokku and his retinue of seven kappas carry their boxes from the wagon to a barge drawn all the way up on the riverbank. The kappas wrap all the boxes in more waterproof cloth before securing them to the barge.

"Of course they're not bad. They're my friends, aren't they?" Hyakkimaru attempts to help with the carrying, but Tokku shuts him down with a glare that changes the color of his irises from gray-green to purple-red, so he wanders back over to Dororo, some ten feet away, and watches the kappa work.

Dororo is standing in a makeshift tent with the horse, feeding him with a feedbag and brushing him down to get some warmth into him: the poor thing is shivering from the chill of the rain. Hyakkimaru also rubs the horse's sides, glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on the kappas' progress.

"You must have done a lot for them," Dororo says. 

Hyakkimaru rubs his hands together to a few moments. "I stopped the fires in this region. And the Takeda lands." He gestures expansively toward the river. "They hate fire. I don't think I did much of anything special, really." He starts rubbing down the horse again.

Tokku is only some seven or eight feet away from them, near the wagon and carrying a box. He breaks away from the other kappa for a moment as if he's found something and or has a question, so Hyakkimaru asks him, "Can I help? Is anything wrong?"

Tokku shakes his head, then lifts his chin fully, revealing the gills on either side of his face. Between the feather-thin membranous skin of the gills is a long thin scar that extends across his entire neck, as if he'd narrowly missed being beheaded at some point.

"Oh," Hyakkimaru says. "That..."

"I nearly burned to death," Tokku says. He looks at Dororo, and points at Hyakkimaru. "He saved me. Saved my wife. My children, not old enough to run or swim far yet. He treated our injuries, though the world calls us demons and monsters." He looks up at Hyakkimaru with too-big eyes and says, "Thanks will never be enough."

Hyakkimaru blushes, and Dororo smiles, because this is both typical and atypical: Hyakkimaru pulling off a dramatic rescue and refusing any credit or acknowledgement is exactly what she'd expect, but hearing that he'd saved the lives of demons--not just one, but several--sounds completely out of character.

Tokku bows deeply and excuses himself, bringing the box he's carrying over to the river barge. Hyakkimaru focuses intensely on the horse and does not say anything for several minutes.

"You don't like it, do you," she says as she carefully removes grit from the corners of the horse's eyes. It's not exactly a question.

"Like what?" he mutters.

"Being valued. Or needed. Or loved." She glances at him sidelong. "Am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond for a while. Just keeps petting the horse. Then: "I don't know. Maybe you're right."

That might be the saddest thing she's ever heard.


	13. The Wedding

When Dororo and Hyakkimaru get back to the camp, they're immediately shown in to Hitomi's tent, which has been erected next to Daigo's but has the advantage of being more comfortable and not crawling with soldiers. Dororo is grateful for the hospitality, and glad that Daigo seems to at least have shown Hitomi some courtesy while they were gone.

When she enters the tent, a woman holds out a fresh towel and bows low. Dororo takes it, rubbing her wet hair dry and pushing another towel over her shoulders.

"I'm so glad you've returned," Hitomi says breathlessly as she rushes in through the front of the tent. Her hair is slightly wet. "I was consulting with Daigo-sama on an urgent matter and got called away. I returned as soon as I heard you'd arrived. Did your trip go well? What do you need?"

"Nothing, nothing," Dororo says, waving off her concern. "Some people are unpacking our cart. I know it's not much, but I wanted you and Daigo to have a few nice things, at least."

"You are too kind to me," Hitomi says with a little smile. "Both of you. I wish I could say that the wedding will take place at once, but due to the poor weather and lack of wedding gifts to exchange up to this moment, the ceremony will probably be held in about a week. Possibly less if we..." Her eyes flit from Dororo to Hyakkimaru. "Also, there are--new developments that you should be aware of."

Dororo doesn't want to push Hyakkimaru back out into the rain now that they've just gotten someplace dry, so she says, "Whatever's happened, Hyakkimaru should know it, too."

Hyakkimaru settles a dry towel over his shoulders with an expression of relief.

"You--are engaged, Dororo-sama. To Kurakawa Kouhei."

"What?"

Hitomi nods.

"How? When?"

"Daigo thought it prudent that we strengthen as many bonds with Asakura as possible. I agree," Hitomi says, "but this is just an engagement. You do not need to prepare for a wedding for some years yet. This is mainly a formality."

"Oh." Dororo nods. "Okay. That makes sense, Hitomi-sama. Thanks for telling me--us," she says. "Kurakawa Kouhei--do I know him? Is he related to Kurakawa Yamato?"

"Distantly," Hitomi says, and at the same time Hyakkimaru says: "Sparrow? Sparrow's your fiance?" He chuckles through his nose. "Well, could be worse I guess. I can tell you he snores."

"You know him?"

"We were war prisoners together."

"I see. Anything else to share?"

"Hm." He pauses, looking troubled.

"What? Is there actually something else you should tell me right now?"

"Well, uh," he says, "as far as I know, he's seeing someone else. Someone kind of--aggressive. But that might be over. You'll have to ask him."

"That's not an awkward conversation at all," she mutters. "Hey, fiance-san, why not dump your girlfriend before marrying me?"

Hyakkimaru offers her a helpless shrug. "It's your problem, not mine. But if he gives you any trouble, let me know. I'm good with people."

Dororo remembers how he intimidated Iwasa into silence about his whereabouts and grins. "I just might do that."

Hitomi glances between them again, looking uncomfortable. "You must be hungry after your long journey," Hitomi says. "Please use my tent until your own accommodations are settled. I'll go and arrange for food to be brought here. I'll be back in a moment." Dororo nods acknowledgement, and Hitomi leaves the tent.

She and Hyakkimaru are not alone. Two women, presumably Hitomi's attendants, fold towels and bank the irori against the cold wind that passes through the tent. When Dororo looks closer, she realizes the woman in front of the irori is familiar.

"Nahoko-san," she says. "I'm so happy you survived."

Nahoko looks up, startled, then gives her a fond smile. "I also, Mio-sama," Nahoko says, resting her palms and forehead on the ground.

Hyakkimaru's face freezes rigid, but Dororo is the only one who notices.

"Uh...actually, Nahoko-san, my name is--"

"Mio, is it?" Hyakkimaru cuts in quietly. He's not looking at her; he isn't looking at anyone, just gazing unfocused into space as if he's gone blind again.

"I--" She shrugs. "I was infiltrating a war camp. I used the first name that popped into my head."

"Then what is your name, Mio-sama?" Nahoko asks, genuinely confused, and Dororo watches Hyakkimaru flinch again. She needs to fix this.

"Daigo Dororo-sama is my name," she says. "I used a fake one when we met. I apologize."

Nahoko looks up at her. "If I had known you were Daigo Dororo-sama, I would have treated you better. Please forgive me."

"That's not the point," Hyakkimaru says before Dororo can say anything else, and leaves the tent.

Dororo remains still with her mouth hanging open for a few seconds. "It was tactless of me," she mutters. "I'm sorry."

Nahoko frowns. "You do not need to apologize, Dororo-sama."

"I do, to him," Dororo says. "Mio was our friend. She died. I--shouldn't have used her name."

"Sounds like she was more than a friend," the other woman mutters under her breath.

"Hush, Kyouko," Nahoko says. "You should know better than anyone not to dredge up old wounds."

***

Hyakkimaru decides he doesn't want to talk to Dororo.

When he decides on something, he does it. Always. Totally and completely.

Still, not talking to Dororo is a challenge, because war camps are only so large and Hyakkimaru cannot leave. Iwasa needs him here. Akiko would chase him--on her bad leg, even--if he up and left again so soon after going shopping.

Dororo would also chase him, but she's also chasing him now, and he's decided he's sick to death of it.

He'd lived for ten years on his own, made friends, changed himself, and he's still found himself back where he started, embroiled hip-deep in Daigo's political maneuverings, except that Dororo is on Daigo's side now and it's worse.

As soon as he leaves Hitomi's tent, he takes up position in the open-air tents nearest the field hospital and works, trying to clear his head. Combat would help him more, but hearing the agonized groans and screaming of men and women as he sets their broken bones and scrapes infection out of their scabs is better than being alone with his own thoughts.

He is interrupted in the middle of applying a burn bandage to the arm of a little boy not older than five. He feels the shadow standing over him before they speak, and says, "What do you want?"

"You two fight?" Akiko asks. "It seems like you fought."

"Leave me alone." He finishes tying off the bandage--a little too tight, based on the boy's gasp, so he loosens it a little and reties it. Then he looks up at Akiko. "I don't want to talk."

"What do you want to do?"

"Heal." Or fight. But it is not the right time to fight. His whole life up until a decade ago had been a cycle of fighting and licking his wounds. He finds this cycle soothing and familiar.

"I'll help." She sits down next to him as the next patient is brought forward, supported between two women. His leg is clearly broken, likely in several places, but the congealed black blood and sweet odor coming from the limb spell necrosis.

"We need to cut off the leg," Hyakkimaru says. "Or you'll die."

The man looks horrified, but he nods.

It's late--the moon is up and the crickets are chirping, and his stream of patients peters and dies out as he boils water for the amputation. Hyakkimaru dips a surgical saw in the hot water with salt and lye to disinfect it and waits. "Do you think it will save him? Cutting off the leg?" Akiko asks.

"Nothing else will." His own leg twitches in sympathy. He'd lost that one twice, but other people don't regrow limbs. If Mizuha were here, she'd probably give him the standard speech about life not being fair--and that being crippled is better than being dead.

"You just got back," Akiko says. "You're exhausted. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"It can't," he snaps, because he's not entirely sure he can sleep right now.

"I know you don't want to talk about it. But you should patch things up with her," Akiko says. "I hate it when Tarou and I are fighting, but I hate seeing you like this more."

"Huh?"

She sticks her tongue out at him. "Never thought I'd say this to you, but grow up. Talk to your friend, preferably before you collapse and die." She gets up, using his shoulder for support, and waves. "G'night."

"Good night."

He has some stronger patients hold down the man by all four limbs while he saws through the necrotic leg tissue a little above the knee. The screaming whites out his thoughts for a few minutes, and the mechanical preparations needed to dispose of the leg, wrap and suture the stump occupy a few more.

Hyakkimaru sits with the man until he passes out. As he does, he identifies the prickly pain inside him as a complex form of loss. He thought he'd mourned Mio, but there is still something sacred about her to him. In his own odd way, he had loved her. He knows this because he had loved Jukai, and both of their absences makes his chest hurt and his eyes hot.

The pain of Dororo _using_ Mio's name for her own purposes is new. He hadn't expected it. It's almost--cruel. Cruel like Daigo. Needless.

Well, so what if Dororo is cruel? She's spent half her life being raised by Daigo; it would be amazing if some of that didn't rub off on her. Why does it bother him so much?

He comes back to consciousness scant minutes after passing out, and paces the perimeter of the field hospital until sunrise. As he paces, he thinks in distressing circles:

Dororo has changed. He remembers her practiced way of buying clothes. Her assurance with money. Her posture, her speech: all different, all strange from when he'd first known her. Strange because of Daigo.

If Dororo has become so much like Daigo, can they even be friends anymore? It is safe to be around her, if all she wants to do is pull him closer into Daigo's web?

Most distressing of all: _Is this a bond that can break?_

He doesn't know. He doesn't want to find out.

So, he avoids her.

But again, army camps are enclosed spaces. She finds him: at mealtimes, or in the field hospital, or patrolling with Iwasa. Avoiding her at meals is easy; he can shove food in his mouth and run away with his bowl over his head, which is exactly what he does. When Akiko sees this for the first time, she clicks her tongue at Dororo and says, "I _did_ tell him to grow up. I guess he didn't listen. Sorry."

Avoiding her in the field hospital is also easy, because he's genuinely busy there. He has Akiko to assist him with the patients that need more than his help, so Dororo's presence is superfluous, though she often hovers along the sides of the hospital and calls out to them. He ignores her. Akiko doesn't, but...well, it's alarmingly easy, pretending she doesn't exist.

Maybe the Dororo he knew once doesn't actually exist anymore.

When he's out patrolling with Iwasa is the worst time Dororo can interrupt, because Iwasa is, predictably, on her side. Even Iwasa had gotten swallowed up in Daigo's influence. On the first night she follows them with her head down and keeps muttering "sorry."

When Hykkimaru doesn't answer, Iwasa says, "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"I did a stupid thing and he's mad at me," Dororo says, pointing to Hyakkimaru. "And now he won't let me fix it."

She thinks she needs to apologize for using Mio's name. That's part of it, but it's not everything. Dororo has changed, and has a capacity for cruelty he hadn't anticipated. She's also going to be married soon, out of contact forever. It all bothers him more than it should, and he buckles down on silence because it's always been easier than speech.

On the third night of silence, he realizes why he's reacted this way.

He's trying to cut off Dororo because he's going to lose her--may have already lost her--and he's attempting to preemptively remove her from his life before she, too, becomes bundled up in his complex feelings of loss.

He realizes that he had, in his own odd way, loved her.

That is why he grieves.

"I hurt you," she says to his retreating back as he patrols with Iwasa. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't answer.

***

Kyouko was born with nothing.

The first thing she remembers is crawling half-naked out of a ditch where her mother had tried to drown them both. It had been the rainy season after a year of famine, and her mother--well, her mother hadn't actually had regular employment, not that she remembers. After that, she'd been taken in by a family that valued her small hands for working looms and mixing the fine powders for dyes. She'd grown up with them, nameless, working only for food to stay alive.

When war claimed that family's village, she'd had nowhere else to go.

Kyouko had attached herself to the army that had conquered that village as a camp follower. She had been young at the time, not more than ten or eleven, so she hadn't known the full scope of her duties when she'd taken on the role. It hadn't taken her long to find out. Other girls, weaker girls than her, got maimed for fighting back, or let the harsh treatment of being passed around like a plaything destroy their inner selves. By the time she was fourteen, she was the only girl from her village left alive in camp.

Because she didn't fight it. She didn't fight being exploited by the dyers, and she didn't fight the soldiers, either. Why should she? She has no chance of winning such a battle. She considers it perfectly rational to work for her food, and if polite society looks down on her work, so be it. Her mother couldn't eat pride, and neither can she. She doesn't even have a family name to be proud of.

Kyouko doesn't mind what she is, really. Even being spat upon has a certain vulgar appeal. She likes that she can elicit strong emotions from others; it's not something everyone can do, and she values that part of herself.

Up until she'd met that war prisoner, she had never been rejected by a man. She remembers the force of that rejection now, and puts on a little pout. She glances out over her futon covers at Kurakawa Kouhei, and pokes him in the shoulder. "Ne, Kouhei-san? Are you asleep?"

"Mhm. What's the matter? Can't sleep?"

"I am...worried...about your upcoming wedding."

"Not gonna happen," he says with a huge yawn. "Just a formality. Already told Sachiko-sama about it. I'll break it off as soon as possible. Go back to sleep." He rolls over.

"But what about...Daigo's wedding?"

"Taken care of," Kouhei says with another yawn. "Stop worrying. You'll get wrinkles."

She grimaces, but lies back down, staring at the ceiling. Having a young, handsome, halfway honest lord fall in love with her is the luckiest thing to ever happen to her, and she intends to hold on to him with both fists for as long as she can.

The Daigo clan are Asakura's ancient enemies. They'd never submit to Daigo without a fight. She reflects on the idea that the man who'd rejected her wore Daigo's crest, and steels her resolve. She's on the side of the Asakurans in this, and will be until the end.

Asakura Hitomi has already been disinherited. There's nothing for Kyouko to gain there. She turns toward Kouhei in the dark and snuggles up behind him, hand looping around his waist as she breathes into his hair. _Mine._

***

Because Daigo and Hitomi still have to do their bizarre courtship dance to legitimize their marriage, the ceremony can't be held right away. Also, though many of the wedding things Dororo had brought can be used as-is, several need some customization of embroidery and decoration before they can be used.

The result of all this is that the wedding is postponed two weeks. It will be held in Amagi instead of Enuma, as per the original plan. Dororo is also scheduled to go to a meeting to meet her betrothed, but she doesn't have time for it. Hyakkimaru is still not talking to her and she needs to figure that out.

Daigo summons her to his tent before she can formulate a plan beyond "stand behind Hyakkimaru and look sad," and she's angry at herself because, in her mind, she hadn't _done_ anything. Nahoko had made an innocent mistake, and now she's paying for it. She doesn't understand why.

But Daigo does not give her the luxury of time. She answers his summons and offers him a cursory salute. He dismisses everyone except Iwasa and his spies, Oosuji and Kawakura, and she relaxes a fraction because there's no one here she needs to be stiff and formal in front of. "You called?" she asks.

"I did," he says. "Hitomi has reminded me of formalities surrounding your betrothal. She has suggested that you meet your fiance at least once before our wedding. I agree."

"I heard this from your messenger," Dororo says. "I refuse."

"It's an order. Refuse it and be beheaded."

Dororo blanches, but she doesn't look away from him. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" he asks, and for a second he looks like the same man he was ten years ago, ruthless and cold. "Hitomi told me you would resist this. I have sent for someone to...help you. Follow their instructions. You do not have to like this experience. You are only required to do it. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly," she says. "Request to be dismissed?"

"Go, go," Daigo says, shooing her out of the tent. Iwasa catches her eye and gives her a sympathetic smile; he may be the only one here who knows exactly what she's going through.

She leaves, and when she goes outside she notices that there's been a break in the rain. She can see Hyakkimaru in the middle distance near the front of the field hospital, changing the bandages of a man who's missing a leg. Seeing him there hurts. Before, seeing him like this and not being allowed to help in the hospital because of "status" and "privilege" and work that was "beneath" her had hurt, but it's worse now; it's like there's a wall between them that's getting thicker by the day.

Suddenly, she remembers something her father had often said about impossible situations: "If you have an unscalable wall in front of you and an unbeatable army behind you, go sideways."

"Sideways," she mutters. Hyakkimaru is her unscalable wall. Daigo is her unbeatable army. She's always straddled the middle path between them, directed forward by one side or another, but she's never had the opportunity to go off into the uncharted territory that _sideways_ promises.

She walks past the field hospital without trying to make conversation. She has a new path to figure out.

***

Takeshitsu Kaguya and Tarou arrive in camp two days later in the early morning, bringing a small wagon train and barrels full of grain and medical supplies. Dororo hears the ruckus and crawls forward to peer out of her tent. When she confirms that there's no immediate threat, she crawls back under her futon covers.

Then one of her tent flaps opens, and Kaguya and Tarou enter, bathed in early morning sunlight. Kaguya looks annoyingly chipper, while Tarou looks a lot like Dororo feels: a little scared, and in need of a nap.

"So," Kaguya says brightly as she enters Dororo's tent. "I hear you're getting married."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Daigo's ordered me to get you ready for omiai," she says.

"Omi-what? Oh, yeah. Arranged dates for arranged marriages." Dororo rolls over on her stomach and puts her face in her futon's pillow. "Say I'm sick."

"That won't work forever, and you need to meet with him at least once before the wedding," Kaguya says. She bends over and pokes Dororo's head, lightly at first, then harder. "Ordinary, Hitomi would be the one to handle this, but she's got her hands full with your groom."

Dororo looks up at her. "Huh?"

"Hitomi is taking care of it," Kaguya says dismissively, "so I get to take care of you."

"And I get to help," Tarou says with a little smile.

"You sure do," Kaguya says. "But first, out. I need to get her dressed."

Kaguya is not as gentle at dressing her as Hiroko. Dororo finds herself missing Hiroko as Kaguya artlessly stuffs her arms into the holes of her furisode sleeves and tugs so hard on her obi that she feels it pressing against her lungs. She does perform the entire dressing procedure in record time, though.

"Acceptable," Kaguya says as she circles Dororo in her formal dress. "Now, makeup."

"All this just for a date?"

"You're supposed to put your best foot forward. You're meeting for the first time, after all."

Dororo grimaces as Kaguya retrieves a makeup box. "Does the man have to put on anything special?"

"There is special clothing for men for omiai," Kaguya says, "though it is not as restrictive, expensive, or difficult to put on. Welcome to being a woman."

"Thanks. I already hate it."

"As do I." Hitomi hands her a beautifully colored paper fan designed to look like the night sky; it matches her furisode perfectly. "I think that's why Daigo-sama called me."

***

Dororo enters a private tent with Kaguya at one shoulder and Tarou at the other, presumably surrounding her so that she won't bolt. Tarou steps neatly to the side and lifts the tent flap for her, revealing a simple space with an irori, a table, and tatami mats to sit on.

Kurakawa Kouhei is sitting at the low table. There are ingredients for a meal, and Dororo realizes that all her favorites are present: sticky white rice, eggs for omourice, greens for salads, sushi rice, and a variety of cuts of fish for making sushi, along with spices and two different sauces, one sweet and one savory.

Kaguya had explained that as the youngest member of this meeting and the bride-to-be, she'd be expected to prepare a dish for them to eat first. Kouhei might then prepare one for her in turn, or ask her to prepare another; in either case, she had to follow the script. _I can get through this_ , she thinks to herself. In any case, all the food is easy to make. She wonders who chose it, and figures it was probably Daigo. No one knows her diet quite as well.

Kouhei blinks a few times when he looks at her, like he's not entirely sure what he's seeing, and Dororo smiles inwardly, a little proud of herself. Her mother had taught her to use every asset she has. If she is beautiful, she can use that. "Kurawaka Kouhei-sama," she says, and kneels low into her most polite posture.

"There is no need for that, Daigo Dororo-sama," he says, matching her level of politeness. He looks--surprised, somehow; there's a smile around his mouth and a measured look in his eyes, like she's not what he expected. Like he's trying to figure her out.

That's fair. She's trying to do the same thing. She rises smoothly onto her knees, and says, "What shall I call you, then?"

"Kawakura-san is fine," he says, looking relieved. "May I call you Daigo-san?"

"I would prefer Dororo-san."

"Very well, Dororo-san. Shall we eat?"

Kaguya gives her a "good job!" signal out of the corner of her eye, and it's all she can do not to roll her eyes. The tent flap closes behind her, and she approaches the table, deciding to make omourice with the eggs, simple skillet, rice and spices.

Kouhei watches her work, and she glances up from time to time. He's staring. "Is there something on my face, Kouhei-san?"

"No," he says, looking down. "You're just--not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

He thinks a moment. "May I be honest?"

"I don't see why not."

"I thought you would hate me," he says. "Try to run. Refuse to come. Something."

She tests whether her egg is cooked through, then adds some crushed kinoko powder over the top, which helps her identify the places that are still wet where she needs to apply heat. "May I be honest, Kurakawa-san?"

"Of course."

"I am not here because I like you." She takes the egg, flips it over the rice and cuts it partway through, still slightly runny. She finishes plating by sprinkling dashi, and presents it to Kouhei.

"I see," he says, accepting the plate with some trepidation. "Then why are you here?"

She sighs. "Daigo threatened to behead me."

She catches him in the middle of a bite of food, with disastrous results; he nearly coughs up what he's eaten, and she presses a cup of water into his hand.

He drinks, and his breathing levels out, and he says, "Is that true?" as he retrieves his chopsticks and begins to eat again.

"Of course it is." She fixes her posture and asks, "So? How is it?"

He tilts his head in confusion.

"The omourice," she says, nodding to his plate.

He takes a few small bites, and his eyes widen in surprise. "This is excellent," Kouhei says, seeming to mean it.

Dororo smiles. "You are too kind. It is one of my favorite dishes."

He nods thoughtfully. "I never would have thought such a simple meal could be so flavorful. You are a talented cook, Dororo-san."

"That might be going a bit too far," she says, drilled-in modesty taking over. What is she supposed to do now? Should she compliment him? He hasn't done anything to compliment. His kimono is slightly nicer and average and he's not old or hideously ugly. She could twist that into compliments, but they wouldn't feel sincere.

None of this is sincere anyway.

He finishes his meal--fairly cleans his plate--and begins rolling sushi rice into nori as she watches. "So, you do hate me," he says speculatively.

"No, not especially," she says. "I have nothing against you, Kurakawa-san. I just don't want to get married."

He smiles, and the skin around his eyes crinkles, but somehow that makes him look younger. "I know exactly what you mean."

***

Hitomi receives reports on Dororo's omiai meeting and sighs in relief. Kyouko has not been as easy to untrench from Kouhei's side as she'd thought. She could have guessed that Dororo and Kouhei wouldn't get along, but she'd never guessed at Dororo's capacity for restraint. Daigo must have taught her to dissemble well.

Dororo hadn't done anything Hitomi had feared: she hadn't caused a scene. She hadn't run away. She had presented and accepted a meal, albeit with somewhat bad grace, and she had dressed and spoken appropriately for the most part. Good marriages had been built on less solid foundations--assuming they even go through with the marriage. The most important point here is that Dororo and Kouhei appear to be getting along. And--miracle of miracles--they have managed to clear that bare minimum standard.

Given enough time and distance, Hitomi is confident that she can extract Kouhei from Kyouko's grasp. It's something that concerns her, but she's too busy in the immediate moment to fully address it. Kyouko had ignored her warning. She's decided to deal with her decisively as the head of the Asakura clan with the weight of the Daigo clan behind her. She thinks back to that morning two days ago when he'd threatened to behead Dororo, and thinks, _That might work,_ before dismissing the idea as too messy.

Not that she wants Dororo to be beheaded. She doesn't. Dororo has been obedient to Daigo to an unusual degree, considering her past, skills and desires. Hitomi is proud of her, but she also wants her to be happy someday, even if it means shirking all restrictions and running off as a ronin. Sometimes she wishes she could do the same herself.

Hitomi brings her own report to Daigo, who nods thoughtfully. "I should threaten her with beheading more often, it seems."

"Please don't," Hitomi says.

Daigo barks out a laugh that isn't entirely reassuring. "We'll see. How are preparations for our wedding, Hitomi-san?"

"As well as can be expected," she says, giving him updates on furniture, embroidery and the art for the ceremony. "We still don't have a priest."

"Yes, we do," Daigo says. "Leave that to me."

***

Kyouko opens a jar full of spices and inhales deeply; it smells sweet and luxurious, enough to make her mouth water. "Careful with that," Kouhei says. "We need it for tomorrow."

Kyouko sets the jar down on the floor and straightens up. "What about tonight?" she asks suggestively, snaking her arms around Kouhei from behind and pulling him in.

"We're--entertaining my cousin Yamato. Have you met him?"

"No, never," she says, though the name is vaguely familiar. She follows Kouhei to one of the temporary buildings in camp, meant for storing grain or rice; a man sits in the corner with his arms and legs bound. He looks up when they enter, and glares.

"You idiot," Kurakawa Yamato spits at them. "Daigo-sama won't stand for this. He'll have your head. His spies will kill you before you know they're there."

Kouhei folds his arms. "Considering how easy it was to catch you, and that you're one of the spies, I'm not terribly concerned," Kouhei says. "You make an excellent distraction, though."

Yamato bares his teeth. "They'll come for me when I don't report."

Kouhei grins. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

Kyouko knows what will happen to them when they come. She is looking forward to it. Crippling Daigo's spy force is only the first step, but it's critical. She is impressed at Kouhei's planning.

Kouhei gags Kurakawa Yamato, and they return to his private tent for a bath, shave, and sex. It's a familiar and easy routine, and Kyouko finds herself daydreaming about actually being a wife.

She lies awake under the futon cover, looking at the ceiling of the tent. Kouhei looks at her and asks, "What's the matter?"

"I'm worried. About tomorrow." She turns to face him, cups his face in her palm. "Will you be all right?"

"Of course," he says with a bright smile. "You and I won't be in any danger."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive."

She hms in relieved agreement. "And--when this is all over--you'll marry me?" Kyouko says, looking up at him hopefully.

"Of course I will," he says, taking her into a deep, all-encompassing hug. "I promise."

It's the night before Daigo's wedding. All the pieces are in place.

Kyouko wraps both arms around Kouhei and doesn't let go.

***

The night before the wedding, Hiroko arrives from Enuma with special clothes for Dororo and Hitomi, as well as several more gifts. Thanks to the temporary break in the rain and the continued delays to the wedding date, she'd managed to make it to Amagi in time. She lays out Dororo's clothes--another furisode and a ridiculously complex hairpin; great--and begins unpacking in Dororo's tent. Dororo helps her, and Hiroko says, "Are you well, Dororo-sama? You appear..."

"I'm fine," she says. "I had a fight with a friend."

A friend she might not ever see again, after tomorrow. She'd tried to find him after her omiai to vent in his general direction--even if he's not talking, he still listens like he used to--but she couldn't find him anywhere. She's rarely felt so alone in her entire life.

"I see. I thought your reaction was due to the furisode. I am glad I was mistaken." Hiroko smiles at her, but it falters when Dororo's own expression does not change. "This--must be a very serious fight, then."

"Yes."

"Can I help?"

Dororo shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think so."

Hiroko smiles at her. "I can make you beautiful enough that he'll apologize to you. I did that for Nuinokata more times than I can count."

Dororo pales. "No, really--there's no need to do that." And it wouldn't work anyway. Hyakkimaru doesn't love her; not like that.

"I insist," Hiroko says. "Looking one's best boosts confidence." Then she frowns. "Take care to stand a little to the side so that you don't upstage the bride. There is only so much I can do for her with makeup."

***

The morning of the wedding dawns bright and unusually cold, for the season, but at least it's not raining. Hiroko helps Dororo dress in the early morning, and she makes her way toward the temporary gate where the wedding procession is supposed to gather well before the appointed time.

She finds Hyakkimaru in the crowd. Hyakkimaru watches her pass, but still doesn't speak. _Wonder if he'll ever talk to me again,_ she thinks to herself.

From the gate, she, Hitomi's attendants, Iwasa, some army soldiers and other wedding guests make their way into Daigo's tent, since it's customary for the bridal trousseau to be brought there before the ceremony. _So much fuss and bother to get married_ , Dororo thinks as she walks. Her arm itches under her sleeve, but scratching it would be undignified.

When two men lift the flaps of Daigo's tent, Dororo is astonished by what she sees: wide silk paintings of cranes in flight, turtles crawling across shoji screens, plum tree groves and mountainscapes on thick rugs. It is more beautiful than she'd anticipated, this temporary celebration room. She glances down at her own clothing and somehow does not feel at all out of place, despite her cursing to Hiroko the entire morning.

She takes a spot at the edge of Daigo's tent, very near Daigo himself, and kneels; Hyakkimaru is directly across from her, and she wonders idly if he'd done that on purpose or if it's just an accident of spacing. Nahoko and Kyouko bring in the bridal trousseau and place it on a low, ornately carved wooden table in the center of the tent.

A Buddhist priest enters the tent. Dororo looks up at him and almost jumps up to wave; she hadn't known Biwamaru would be the one performing the ceremony. She hasn't seen him since their ill-fated encounter with the army. When she sees him, she smiles; with all his martial prowess, she sometimes forgets he is a priest.

Hitomi enters then, dressed all in white with a headdress of horns covered by cloth, symbolizing the bride’s resolve to become a gentle and obedient wife. Dororo makes a mental note that she should skip the horns at her wedding, because that's not the sort of promise she can make. Her scar is all-but-hidden by makeup, and her pale face and hands make her appear delicate, fairy-like.

She tries to find Kurakawa Kouhei's face in the crowd, but he's not immediately visible. And--she notices this with a little frown--Daigo's two guards are not Kawakura and Oosuji, but two men she doesn't know well. She considers that unusual.

Nahoko places two small ornamented lacquer cups on the same table as the trousseau and pours a bit of sake into each of them. She then pours another, much smaller, cup of sake for herself, and sips it, presumably to verify that it isn't poisoned. When Nahoko suffers no ill effects, Biwamaru asks Daigo and Hitomi to dedicate their pledge before the Buddha and the gods, and they take their cups and drink at the same time. Hitomi excuses herself with a graceful bow, and exits the tent.

"What now?" Dororo asks no one in particular. She just wants this to be over. She has the strangest feeling that everything's about to go wrong, because nothing about this process has been smooth. Where are Daigo's spies? Is there some kind of threat she wasn't told about?

"Now Hitomi-san changes into her own furisode, and they exchange the makie boxes," Iwasa says in her ear, nearly making her jump out of her skin. He grins at her. "You miss me?"

"Hardly." She glares at him. "How do you know all this stuff, anyway?"

"Kaguya has been telling you all this stuff for days. I know because I get an earful when she comes to eat dinner."

Dororo looks past him, at Hyakkimaru, and Iwasa rudely snaps his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. "He told me to tell you he's not mad at you," Iwasa says. "Not anymore."

Dororo straightens up a little. "Good. There was nothing to be mad about in the first place."

Iwasa smiles, but it looks painful. "He also told me that--today's the last day. He's leaving. If you want to say goodbye, he'll drop by the reception. Otherwise he'll just be gone. I wanted to give you a choice on what to do."

 _Gone._ Dororo's stomach clenches. "I--yes, I would like to say goodbye."

"That's what I thought." He uses his hands to sign something to Hyakkimaru, and Hyakkimaru nods. Iwasa moves to clear away the sake glasses from the low table, but Dororo grabs his sleeve. "Iwasa-san," she says, "thank you."

He smiles, then clears the table and kneels next to her again.

Hitomi returns to the tent in a beautiful furisode of red and black. Unlike Dororo's furisode, hers is entirely embroidered and not dyed; it must have been something Hiroko had brought with her from Enuma, and Dororo realizes that it probably belonged to Nuinokata.

Hitomi approaches the trousseau and opens it, retrieving the makie lacquer boxes. Daigo takes one as well, and together they place the two matching half-shells together. Biwamaru nods solemnly, and that concludes the ceremony. They're married. It's over.

Dororo breathes an almost-audible sigh of relief. From the other side of the room, she could swear she sees Hyakkimaru smiling at her, but it's probably just her imagination.


	14. Scorched Earth

After the wedding, Dororo prepares to make her way to the reception space, scratching her arm discreetly as she stands. Iwasa falls into step behind her, and they move higher up, into the camp where the higher-ranked soldiers live. She sees the reception space up ahead: lots of tables and some picnic blankets set up along a wide swath of trees, but she doesn't see anyone there waiting for them.

She freezes. "Iwasa," she says, "isn't someone--supposed to be over there? Bringing food?"

"You're right." Iwasa loosens his sword and makes sure his gun's slung behind his back. "I'll warn Daigo--"

Suddenly, there is a noise so loud and all-encompassing that it sends her to her knees in the mud--in the fancy furisode, no less. The ground crumbles beneath her, and something fast whizzes above her head. At first she thinks it's an arrow, but she doesn't see any arrows--and the sound is too loud.

Bullets. She's being fired on. She rolls in the mud, keeping low and tracking Iwasa. He crawls to the side, toward the cover of the trees, and she follows, wishing she had a weapon. 

Iwasa straightens up behind a tree and sees her. As he lights his matchstick with a flintstone, he says, "Get to Hyakkimaru. I'll find Daigo. And if you could look for the kids, I'd appreciate it."

"Right." Dororo stays on her stomach and crawls back toward Daigo's tent. Most of the people in the procession had scattered; she sees people running past her, people gunned down to either side, but she focuses: she needs to find Hyakkimaru and a weapon. 

She finds Hyakkimaru skirting the camp in the trees nearest the field hospital. That makes sense; someone should protect the wounded. Her own tent is nearby--closer than he is; he doesn't see her from this distance because he's standing and she's crouched in the mud--so she stops by the tent first, to retrieve her weapons. 

Her tent is not empty. Men in black armor with a crudely painted design are ransacking her things when she enters. She straightens up with a frown, and says, "Oh, that's not nice," and hook kicks the nearest man in the jaw. He goes down with a satisfactory bone-splintering noise at the same time her furisode rips along a seam, and she has just enough time to duck the sword of the next man and turn the movement into a spin-kick to the hollow of his throat.

He goes down gurgling blood, and she helps herself to her own shortswords and a dagger. Her bow is also there, but no arrows, and one of the men had jammed her gun so that it's not immediately usable. She has armor, too, but no one to help her put it on, and it would probably weigh her down in this situation in any case.

She exits her tent, fully armed, and immediately cuts down a woman in the same crudely decorated armor as the men. This seems to be a militia of some sort--popped up overnight, hastily put together. Undoubtedly working for Asakura, but the design is not the Asakura mon. 

She finds Hyakkimaru in the same place she'd seen him last, at the edge of the field hospital. She had thought he was protecting the wounded, but it looks like the wounded have ganged up on him; his sleeves are red to the elbows, and the rage in his eyes is kindled.

Betrayed. They'd been betrayed from inside the camp--by people they'd been helping.

She understands that this is what must have happened, but it doesn't make any sense. Who's pulling the strings, here?

No time for that right now. She leaps over the low fence separating the field hospital from the rest of the camp and spreads her swords in a fan shape as she runs, cutting down everyone in her way.

The torn and muddy furisode makes it hard to move. She pitches forward as she runs and nearly falls, but manages to turn the fall into a roll. She straightens up and leaps over the fence of the field hospital, barreling toward Hyakkimaru at full speed.

He glances her way, eyes wide, and she shoves and pushes down all the people between her and him, because superhuman or not, the numbers are against him here. 

She almost falls again when she reaches him, and he catches her on one arm and hisses, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass," she says lightly, too preoccupied for the moment to realize that this is the first time he's spoken to her in a week. He opens his mouth to say something, and she says, "Hold that thought," and then slits up the sides of her furisode to make it easier to move. She also removes about a foot and a half of trailing fabric because it drags in mud as she runs.

"So," Dororo says, looking Hyakkimaru straight in the eye, "are we doing this?"

A man rushes Hyakkimaru from behind, and Dororo clicks her tongue and bonks him at the base of the skull with the hilt of one shortsword. He collapses, unconscious, and the people nearest her all take a step back.

All except Hyakkimaru. He looks at her for a long moment, and she can imagine how she must look; her hair is loose, her makeup is shot to hell and her formal dress is ruined; Hiroko will kill her if she isn't dead already. 

When he looks at her swords, his eyes widen.

"Is that--" he says, pointing to her right sword. "That's not--mine?" The sword that he'd dropped in the Hall of Hell, with Daigo, before he'd picked up new a new weapon from a battlefield. 

"Yes," she confirms. "Why? Want it back?"

"No." He smiles a little. "You stole my sword after all." 

He lifts his own bloody swords, the left one easy and familiar in his grip from a thousand battles, and something rises in Dororo's chest like confidence or victory. "Stay with me. If we get separated we don't stand a chance."

She nods, and takes position behind his shoulder as they cut a line through the false wounded into a world on fire. None of the wounded in the field hospital are armed, and only a few are proficient in hand-to-hand combat or martial arts; the hardest part of getting through is _not_ killing everyone in the way. Women and children cower on on the edges of the field hospital, and Dororo considers the idea that not all of them were in on this strange plan to take over the camp.

"You all right?" Hyakkimaru calls over his shoulder. "The fighting's about to get worse."

"Fine," she says. "Where are Tarou and Akiko?"

"Shit," he says, and he looks back, behind her, and to each side before deciding to go slightly uphill toward the food storage tents. "Tarou wanted to help with the food. I hope he's--" A bullet grazes his shoulder, and he gasps.

"Lead the way," Dororo says.

They find Akiko fighting with her back to the grain storage tent, Tarou perched at her shoulder with a bloody shortsword. "Hyakkimaru!" Akiko hails him from some yards away. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Asakura betrayed us," Hyakkimaru says.

"No shit," Akiko says. "Where did everyone go?"

"Iwasa said he'd get to Daigo," Dororo says. "I think he's back at Daigo's tent. We should probably try to protect him and Hitomi."

Hyakkimaru nods, and bows his head for a few moments. "I made a call for more help," he says. "Let's get you to Iwasa," he says, gesturing to Akiko and Tarou.

"We're fine," Akiko says as she leans against a grain barrel. Tarou nods in confirmation. 

"I know you are," Hyakkimaru says. "It's Daigo I'm worried about."

Akiko pouts. "But I wanted to play with the soldiers some more."

"There will be plenty of soldiers where Daigo is."

"Really?" She looks hopeful.

"Yes."

"Okay!" She shoves Tarou in front of her, and the four of them move in a line with Hyakkimaru and Dororo out front, then Tarou, and Akiko bringing up the rear.

"I thought you didn't like to kill," Dororo says to Akiko.

"I don't," Akiko says. "But I love fighting. It's great exercise."

Tarou says, "She didn't actually kill those guys. But they'll find it hard to walk for a while."

Dororo swallows around a lump in her throat. Incapacitating them without killing them is much more difficult than killing them outright. She nudges Hyakkimaru in the shoulder. "Hey," she says, "did you teach her that?"

"What?" he asks. He is distracted, eyes roaming the battlefield for snipers and soldiers, but there are none immediately visible.

"How to incapacitate and not kill."

"Yeah," he says.

"Will you teach me?"

"Sure," he says, though it sounds somewhat halfhearted. "If we make it out of this."

"You're underestimating me again," Akiko complains.

"He always does that," Tarou says. 

"Better safe than sorry," Hyakkimaru says. He points to Daigo's tent, faintly visible up ahead and still standing. "Sprinting is safest. Is anyone too hurt to run?"

"We're fine," Akiko says in the tone of an exasperated child to an overbearing parent.

"I can run," Dororo confirms.

"All right," Hyakkimaru says. "Go!"

They take off running, and Dororo hears bullets whiz past her ear and sees arrows fly in the distance, but they're not at a close enough range to hit her. Every step sends blood pulsing like thunder through her ears, but as they climb the projectiles decrease and they're able to move more in open space.

Of course, this means their enemies can move, too. Six men, maybe seven, jump out of the trees surrounding them, and Hyakkimaru makes a flying leap and cuts down the first three as fast as blinking. Dororo handles the man nearest her, who'd been hiding behind his friend, and Tarou and Akiko each take one. Akiko cuts her man's leg from thigh to knee so that he loses his footing, then knocks him out; Tarou sidesteps his opponent and stabs him in the gut. He goes down, gasping.

And then there was one. 

Hyakkimaru and Dororo move at the same time. Hyakkimaru notices her movement and swings wide to avoid her, and Dororo does the same; the result is that the man in front of them gets his arms chopped off. He goes down screaming, and the two of them look at one another, a little sheepish.

"So messy," Akiko complains, but then Hyakkimaru starts running again, and there's nothing for it but to follow him.

They reach Daigo's tent at last, and find it entirely changed: all the beautiful art is sprayed with blood, and the carpet is filthy with holes in places; soldiers are lined up in the tent, some bearing guns, almost all carrying swords.

Iwasa is in the tent, and he hails them as they enter. "Hyakkimaru, Dororo. Kids." He grins, and Akiko sticks her tongue out at him. "Good to see you among the living. I take it you called for help?"

Hyakkimaru nods. "I did, but they're not here yet."

"Shame." Iwasa nods toward the center of the tent, to a cluster of spear-wielding soldiers standing in a ring so dense it's hard to tell what they're protecting. "Daigo and Hitomi are safe, for the moment. They won't be if the Asakura army breaks through."

"Are we sure it's them? They're not wearing the right symbols. Or colors."

"That could be to confuse us," Iwasa says, "or it's just a branch of the family we don't recognize. Right now my biggest problem is that I don't know how many there are or who's leading them.

"I do know one thing, though," Iwasa says. "Or, Daigo does. C'mon." He slaps Hyakkimaru's shoulder and gestures for Dororo to follow him. A gap opens for him in the wall of spears protecting Daigo and Hitomi. 

Iwasa bows, and says, "Daigo-sama. Kindly repeat what you told me."

Daigo appears pale but otherwise unharmed. Both he and Hitomi are still spotlessly clean, as if the violence outside the tent has no power to touch them. "Kurakawa Yamoto went missing last night," Daigo says. "I suspect they were trying to lure Oosuji. The families have a rivalry of sorts. She took a party of ten. They've probably been captured or--or killed."

"That means there's either a lot of them, or they're well-trained," Dororo says.

"Don't forget the possibility of 'and,'" Hyakkimaru says under his breath.

"Huh?"

"They could have come in numbers _and_ been highly trained," Hyakkimaru says, "but my guess is that they have a small number of elite fighters and lots of meat shields. The people of Amagi, probably."

"You're probably right," Iwasa says. "I saw a group of men in better armor than mine running uphill toward the waterfall." He sounds vaguely resentful of the men who presumably have better armor than he does. "Looked elite to me."

Hyakkimaru nods in acknowledgment. "Someone needs to stay and protect Daigo and Hitomi," Hyakkimaru says, and Iwasa sighs.

"I figured that'd be me, since a lot of my people are already here," Iwasa says. "Go have fun and kill the bad guys. And if you could bring me some helmets and chest armor when you get back, I'd appreciate it."

"Are you motivated by nothing except personal gain?"

Iwasa puts on a mock-wounded expression. "Of course I am!"

"What, then?"

"Self-preservation," he says without a hint of irony.

"As are we all," Akiko puts in.

"Right," Hyakkimaru says. He turns to Akiko and Tarou. "Stay here with Iwasa," he says. "It's too dangerous outside, and we don't know how many there are."

Akiko pouts but doesn't complain. "Understood." Tarou nods and asks one of the guards if he can hold his spear.

"You too, Dororo," he says. "Daigo can't be losing his heir on his wedding day. It wouldn't look right."

Hyakkimaru intends to go out there and take out an elite squad of soldiers, an endless supply of cannon fodder, and a general alone. She snorts through her nose, but it isn't funny. "Going out there alone is suicide."

"Maybe," he says, "but I don't have any other ideas, and protecting Daigo is top priority at the moment." He turns to face toward the exit of the tent. Dororo copies his movement, and then there's a rush of something warm across her face. 

She blinks, and the demon Mizuha appears in front of her in a corona of red light. "You're a hard one to find," she says, nodding to Hyakkimaru. "What in buddha's name is going on?"

"Assassins," Hyakkimaru says. "They failed, but they brought an army. I called for help earlier, but..."

"I heard you," Mizuha says. "I was busy putting out fires. This city you tried to save is up in smoke." She looks at the ground. "I'm sorry."

Hyakkimaru swallows around a lump in his throat.

Dororo draws in a deep breath. "But why? If Asakura is behind this, why kill so many of their own people? It doesn't make sense."

"It does if they want to cut off Daigo's options for escape," Mizuha says. "This general uses scorched earth tactics." She looks directly at Hyakkimaru. "If the leader comes at you, kill him."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." 

He glances at Dororo. "That's Mizuha's way of saying this guy is worse than Daigo on his worst day. We need to be careful." Then he asks Mizuha, "Do you have a name? Do I know this guy?"

"You should," she says. "It's Kurakawa Kouhei."

Her betrothed. "Well, that explains some things," Dororo says. At least now she really knows the hatred is mutual. "Not everything, but..." She frowns.

Hyakkimaru looks at Mizuha. "Can you get Tokku to help put out the fires in the city? I don't know if Jorogumo is close enough--"

"I already put out the call for them," she says. "Tokku is in Amagi. Jorogumo is on her way." A pause. "You called me, remember? How can I help?"

Dororo thinks they could really use her help against Kurakawa Kouhei. He is obviously much more formidable and intelligent than he'd appeared at first glance. But if Daigo and Hitomi don't get out of here alive, all of this--all this political posturing to stop a war--will have been for nothing.

"I need you to protect Daigo and Hitomi for me," Hyakkimaru says, and Dororo nods in agreement. They have the same first priority, at any rate.

Mizuha smiles and brings one hand across her chest as if she is greatly moved. "You, asking me to protect Daigo. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Will you do it?"

"I will. But I expect you to come pray with me again."

"Where? There's no Hall of Hell anymore."

She smiles. "I'll show you where." And then she extends the hand on her chest outward and up, to the west. "Go. Stop this madness before it's too late to save anything."

***

Dororo follows Hyakkimaru out of the tent, and he immediately tells her to go back.

"I will not and stop asking," she says, ducking an incoming bullet.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," he says as they walk. "Go back."

"I outrank you," she says, "and I said no."

Three men attack them in a loose V-formation. Hyakkimaru cuts down the center man with a quick X-cut while Dororo takes the man on the right, slitting him thinly from nipple to navel. The third one bolts, and Hyakkimaru lets him be, moving fixedly in the direction Iwasa had told him.

"Go back," he says when they start moving again.

"I won't let you kill yourself." _And at least this way, we'll die together._ The thought is morbid, but somehow comforting.

"We don't even know where this guy is," Hyakkimaru says in a tone of exasperation. "Will you--"

"No. You're not getting rid of me until we kill him."

"He was that much of a jerk to you on your date, huh?"

"You heard about that?" _When you weren't talking to me?_

"I'm Daigo's bastard son. I get the family newsletter whether I want it or not." His eyes scan the battlefield for threats, but his tone is light. Then, in a harder tone of voice: "I'm still not talking to you."

"Could have fooled me," she says as an arrow whizzes past her head, missing by a good four inches. The arrow either came from the trees or from the high-up fortifications further into the camp.

Hyakkimaru stops dead in his tracks and points to a red-yellow light like a campfire in the middle distance. "Look," he says. "We're far away, but that looks like a bonfire to me." 

Dororo breathes in, scenting the air, and something in her chest constricts, making her double over coughing.

"What?" Hyakkimaru asks. "What's wrong?"

Her lungs feel like they're on fire, like they're burning in acid, and her brain makes the connection between _Hitomi_ and _Asakura_ and _poison_ in the space of half a second. "Get down," she gasps, "smoke rises."

It's easier to breathe on the ground. She yanks the trailing fabric off of her obi in one long pull, cuts off a ragged piece and wraps the fabric around her nose and mouth. "I think--that's not an ordinary fire." She coughs again, and her makeshift mask is now wet and gross like the rest of her. At least she matches.

Hyakkimaru takes a deep breath and coughs--once, twice--and frowns. "I think you're right. They must be using it to prevent people from getting close." Hyakkimaru tears off a piece of his own obi and ties it around his face.

They crouch low and advance forward into a sort of dead zone: no people, no bullets, no arrows. Temporary buildings and tents surround them on either side, but Dororo sees no people. 

The fire comes into view. It's an incongruous sight: it's only late afternoon, so there's no need for such a huge, bright fire. It looks like such an obvious trap, but it's in the direction that Iwasa said Kouhei had gone, so she keeps pressing forward, toward the flames.

As she gets closer, Dororo notices a blue-green tinge to the fire, indicating some kind of chemical adulteration. She also sees dozens of fallen men and women, but there's no blood to be seen. They had probably collapsed from the poison. Very near the fire itself, a single long shadow stretches out.

"Kurakawa," she says, wishing she should spit through her mask. 

"So formal," Kurakawa complains as he faces her. He carries a long spear in both hands; he twirls it a little as he turns. "Call me Kouhei. Or Sparrow. I actually liked that old Sakuzou bastard. Before I ran him through, anyway."

"Kouhei," Hyakkimaru snarls. "Was this your plan? Put your own people to the torch to see Daigo burn?"

Dororo doesn't understand the point of that question, for a moment. Then she realizes that there might be another general on the field aside from Kouhei. _Don't forget the possibility of "and."_ There is so much about this enemy that she doesn't know or understand.

Kouhei clicks his tongue. "I wanted you to join me, remember? I figured you'd jump at the chance, considering your...personal history," he says, phrasing carefully. 

"What about your cousin?" Dororo asks. "Yamato?"

"A fool and a traitor. I had him executed."

"How are you different from Daigo, then?" Hyakkimaru brings his swords level with his shoulders in a position of threat. "Killing your own family for personal gain."

"It would never have come to this if my uncle hadn't agreed to give Hitomi up. We could have stayed united and crushed Daigo together. But now..." He squints at them, seeming to notice their masks for the first time. He's not wearing a mask; he must have immunized himself to this poison somehow. "Clever," he says. "But not clever enough, I think."

The bonfire behind Kouhei flickers and goes out. In the ashes, Mizuha stands and stretches, looking bored. "Took you long enough," she says to Hyakkimaru.

"I was busy," he says as he presses the attack on Kouhei.

Dororo draws her own shortswords and looks for an opening, but there isn't one; Kouhei moves well and is almost as fast--or maybe just as fast--as Hyakkimaru; she feels like if she cuts in she runs the risk of hurting the wrong person. 

The spear also gives Kouhei a long reach; Dororo watches as he sweeps under Hyakkimaru's legs to make him jump and does a simultaneous high strike to the head. Usually Hyakkimaru can block but not always, and when he is defending he cannot attack. Kouhei runs him in circles until finally Hyakkimaru flips over him with his swords in X-cut position for easy beheading, but Kouhei ducks the blow, gets the shaft of his spear between the blades to break Hyakkimaru's guard and cuts him from the top of his shoulder into his gut: a long deep gash that sprays blood. 

Hyakkimaru falls to the ground like dead weight, and doesn't move.

Dororo sees that Hyakkimaru is somehow, impossibly, in trouble here, and swipes her own swords out in a wide arc to push Kurakawa Kouhei back, away from Hyakkimaru. Kouhei blocks her, but doesn't budge, and Dororo begins her fight with him over Hyakkimaru's unmoving body. She sincerely hopes it isn't a corpse.

 _It's not a corpse. Don't be morbid. No way Hyakki loses to this asshole._ She looks down at him briefly, and corrects herself: _No way in hell am_ **I** _losing to this asshole._

"You bastard," she snarls as she lifts her swords for a disemboweling Z-cut.

"I'm pretty sure that's you, actually," he says lightly, smiling as he blocks her. There is a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, perhaps from the fire, perhaps from battle fatigue, but he appears calm. 

Dororo goes for all the same open places as Hyakkimaru did but his reach is too damn long and she can't get through; she also has to be careful not to step on or trip over Hyakkimaru. Kouhei trips her; she falls flat on her back and her leg wound gushes open and the spear tip searches for her throat.  
  
At this exact instant, Mizuha vanishes from atop the pile of burned ash where she'd been standing. When she reappears, she's at Kurakawa Kouhei's shoulder. She taps him on it, and his armor, haori and hakama catch fire in seconds. 

Kouhei flails and tries to hit Mizuha, run her through with his spear, but by the time he turns she's vanished again. He runs away screaming, presumably to get to water, and Dororo pushes herself into a sitting position and shakes Hyakkimaru's shoulder. 

He doesn't respond. 

***

"Hey!" Dororo turns Hyakkimaru over, faceup, yanking his arms like a rag doll's. He opens his eyes and makes an effort to take deeper breaths, but it's difficult; his lungs are burning from the poison and his injuries smart in the open air. "Stay with me, here," Dororo says.

Hyakkimaru sits up, feeling a shout of pain from the base of his neck to the sacrum of his spine; he ignores it.

"Are you okay?" Dororo says, and she sounds too close; the sound of her voice echoes and pounds in his ears.

"I'm fine."

He's not fine, but he's alive. He had been defeated. He can't fight Kurakawa Kouhei in this condition. So, he has to get to cover. Safety. Allies. Or Dororo might die, too.

In the back of his own mind, he considers his own death a foregone conclusion.

_I hope the kids are all right._

What happens next is something of a blur. News that the commander has fled the field unfurls across the battlefield like a flag of surrender; as the sun sets before them, Hyakkimaru and Dororo encounter stragglers and runners, mostly, but a few are still proud or stupid enough to stand and fight. One comes at Dororo with a knife and cuts her deep before Hyakkimaru can slit his neck open; another manages to grapple Hyakkimaru and dislocate his arm before Dororo cuts a line down his spine and fountains blood over the both of them.

"When this is over," Dororo says, "I am spending, like, three days in an onsen."

Hyakkimaru starts tracing a way through to some buildings, because he's weakening fast and finding cover has become the top priority. He kicks open the door of a building that looks abandoned, and finds a lone prisoner with his arms shackled overhead. He's bleeding and unconscious--and wearing Daigo's symbol on his bloody clothes.

"Messenger, maybe?" Dororo mutters. "Wait--"

Hyakkimaru lifts his head, and Dororo gasps.

"Kurakawa Yamato," Hyakkimaru mutters. "Hey. Hey! Can you hear me? Can you walk?"

"Whu-?" He comes back to consciousness, white-pale, bleeding from half a dozen shallow wounds. He probably looks a lot like Hyakkimaru feels.

Dororo kneels beside him. "Thank the gods that bastard was lying," she says, checking Kurakawa's pulse with two fingers to his neck. "Oosuji's been worried sick about you." 

"Sayaka-san," he says, eyes widening in recognition. "She--is dead. He told me."

"No," Dororo says. "She's fine, as of this afternoon. Waiting for you to come back." She catches Hyakkimaru's eye, and he nods. Hyakkimaru taps the delicate mechanism of the chain lock with his sword and hears the satisfying sound of it breaking. They free Kurakawa's wrists, then they each take one arm and hoist him up. He grunts in pain, but doesn't pass out.

They walk to another building together and shut the door. Hyakkimaru intends to rest for a few minutes, but when he comes back to himself Kurakawa is gone and Dororo's back is pressed against his spine. He can feel every breath she takes, and those breaths are ragged.

"Where are we?" she asks.

"Building," he says. "Somewhere near where Kurakawa was."

"Where is he?" she asks.

"I think he crawled off. I fell asleep. Or unconscious. Not sure."

"Me too." Dororo closes her eyes and thunks her head against his. "This whole experience has been...bracing," Dororo says. Her swords are out in front of her wall supporting her on one side. The two of them face both of the doors to this room, so if anyone tries to get in they'll be ready. 

For what, Hyakkimaru is not entirely sure. His scalp is itchy with crusted blood and sweat. His clothes and hands and feet are covered in mud and blood and other unidentifiable filth. He wants another nap.

"Tell me about it," Hyakkimaru mutters, leaning his head against the wall.

"Are you still not talking to me?" She shifts a little toward him, and her expression is a half-smile.

"Hm. Let me get back to you on that." He shifts, and something shiny catches the light.

"You're hurt," Dororo says, twisting her body to track the shiny patch of partially congealed blood to his left shoulder with some difficulty. "How bad?"

"Never mind," he says. "You're hurt, too."

"That explains why everything is so spinny," she complains. "Also why we're sitting down..and hey, where is everyone? Is Daigo okay?"

"I don't know."

"Oh." She frowns. "How about Hitomi?"

"No idea. Iwasa and Mizuha are looking out for them." He opens his eyes. With great difficulty, he brings his right hand over to his left shoulder, makes a fist, and shoves it into the wound with a sound like he's being gutted; his face goes bright white.

"Aniki," she breathes. "Wait. Don't get up. I'll help you."

He gets to his feet gasping, and shakes his head. "Look down, Dororo."

Down? "Why?"

"Just..."

And she does. Her right leg has been slit from her shin to her thigh, almost all the way up. "It doesn't hurt," she mutters at the ugly looking wound. "How--?" 

"Solider with a knife, remember?"

"Shit," she mutters.

"You can't walk," he says. "I'll get help--bandages--water. Don't move."

"Like I have a choice." She lifts her hand, tries to catch his eye. "Why--I remember, being stabbed--why am I--"

"--alive?" he asks. She nods. "Because I saved you," he says. "We'll talk later. I'll be back." And then he's gone. 

***

Dororo looks up, into the darkness. She can't see anything. She doesn't see Hyakkimaru come back, either. Blood loss, dehydration, exhaustion--between the three of them she passes out, and doesn't feel herself being lifted to safety or force-fed water or bandaged up.

She stirs, briefly, when someone lays her out on something soft. She hears a familiar voice grunt, "Heavy," in a tone of complaint, and then she drifts out of consciousness again. 

When she finally wakes up, Kagemitsu Daigo is standing over her futon. The edges of his scar are sharp and bright as knives in the low light, and she lets out a slow breath. "Hitomi?" she asks.

"Fine," Daigo says. "Shaken, but fine. I owe you a debt."

"It wasn't just me," she says, trying to sit up. Someone appears at her shoulder to help her, and she mutters "thanks" before she looks at who it is: Hyakkimaru, with his left arm in a sling. He braces her with his good arm, and she leans against him, feeling flushed.

Daigo towers over them from above, and crosses his arms. "You two are incredibly stupid."

"Don't forget brave," Hyakkimaru puts in.

"And selfless," Dororo adds.

"And incredibly _stupid,"_ is Daigo's only reply. "Holding off an army of assassins with two people--what were you thinking?"

"Uh, that you and a bunch of innocent people would die?" Dororo says this without looking at him. Some part of her had also thought to die with Hyakkimaru in the assault. Mainly so that he wouldn't die, period, but also so that he wouldn't die alone. That's not something she thinks she can stand.

Daigo rubs his forehead scar with an expression of pain. "The other Asakurans vanished when they realized the battle was lost," he says. "That includes your betrothed," he says to Dororo. "Kawakura Yamoto also vanished. Oosuji is inconsolable."

"I'll bet." Dororo frowns. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. No way in hell Kawakura betrays you. No fucking way." She gets this out with jagged gasps that burn her lungs; it hurts to breathe in this position, so Hyakkimaru grips her arm and lowers her onto her back again.

"Language," Hyakkimaru mutters under his breath. To Daigo: "I agree with Dororo. He was alive in the battle; we found him and tried to get him to safety. Is there any chance he was taken as a hostage?"

"Perhaps, but I've received no demands for ransom--or demands at all." He looks at the two of them for a few seconds. "This leaves us in something of a difficult position. I needed Dororo's political marriage to hold this province together. But now--"

"--we're at war," Dororo finishes. "Crap. It's just like Iwasa said." She breathes. "Okay. Okay. This is bad. Uh--"

"Stop panicking out loud. Focus," Hyakkimaru says.

"Right. Um. Okay. I need to get married to someone powerful to hold Asakura together. Okay. Are we sure there's no other way?" She tries to sit up again, shoulders twitching in the upward direction, but the rest of her body resists the change in position and holds her still, on the ground, staring at the ceiling and part of Hyakkimaru's face. 

"That's already been decided," Daigo says. She can't see him from this position, and his bodiless voice has the pronouncement of solemnity about it, as if he's reading out her fate on a scroll.

Dororo frowns. "It has?"

Takeda Iwasa crouches into her field of vision. Hyakkimaru is on her left side, and Iwasa is on her right. "A lot happened when you were asleep." Iwasa looks at Hyakkimaru, grimacing. "This was Kaguya's idea, not mine, so--forgive me." He takes a piece of paper out from his haori and hands it to Hyakkimaru. His eyes widen when he reads it.

"No," Hyakkimaru says. "You can't--"

"I did," Iwasa confirms. "It was the only way to keep you alive."

"What? What?" Dororo asks, whipping her head from side to side because that's all she can do.

"Takeda Iwasa has made Hyakkimaru his heir," Daigo says. "Hyakkimaru has been adopted into the Takeda clan--or will be, after a few formalities are taken care of."

"But--why?"

"Hyakkimaru was seen outside the wedding tent in the same area as a half-dozen Asakura assassins," Daigo says. "He was already unpopular in Kaga. The fact that he saved me is irrelevant. He won't accept Daigo clan status, and with the true culprits gone it was easy to blame him for the mess. He failed to get Hitomi to Enuma, after all. Perhaps this was his plan. That sort of thing."

"All lies," Dororo says. "And I was next to him the whole time--how come I'm not a traitor and a spy?"

"Some say you are, though most consider you a hostage. Politics _is_ all lies," Daigo says, and though she can't see him his tone is hard. "The only way to protect him from execution was with clan status. He can't have Daigo clan status without jeopardizing your social position. So Takeda and I compromised."

"It's the best solution," Iwasa puts in. "And besides, now you get a choice."

Dororo looks up at Iwasa. "What choice?"

"You can't marry into Asakura, not anymore, so we're your closest allies," Takeda says. "You can marry me. Or Hyakkimaru. Or one of my other relatives, if you like. I'll let you pick whichever one you want. Okay?" He hovers one hand over her forehead like he wants to push her hair out of her eyes.

"You'll baby her," Daigo says. "She's not a child."

Dororo's stomach does a backflip. "You mean--I can--"

"Yes," Iwasa says. He looks at Hyakkimaru, who leans away, out of her field of vision. "You know I'll always support you, no matter what you do," Iwasa says while looking straight across at Hyakkimaru. "I'm sorry. I know you hate it. But I couldn't let them kill you." And he smiles. "And I'm proud to call you brother."

Hyakkimaru doesn't say anything.


	15. Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't like that look," Iwasa says as he puts his newly seated arm in a sling and tightens the knot over his good shoulder. "You're blaming yourself again."
> 
> "Shouldn't I?" 
> 
> Iwasa looks him in the eye. "Blame that Kouhei bastard. Hell, blame me for not coming with you and for being slow as shit to get here in the first place. Blame Daigo; that's easy. But don't blame yourself. We couldn't have held off the horde of pigfuckers last night without you." He claps him on his good shoulder and helps him stand. "Now, come on already." 
> 
> His instincts still scream at him to run, get away, go back to the river--but it seems that Iwasa, at least, is sticking by him for the immediate future.
> 
> You trust Iwasa, he reminds himself.
> 
> You miss Dororo invades uninvited, but he's too tired to tamp that thought down.

The aftermath of Daigo's wedding is a essentially a war zone.

It's something Hyakkimaru has experienced before; he'd walked through countless battlefields as a wandering samurai in search of his body, but he'd rarely seen this scale of carnage with his own eyes. Fallen men stare up at him with unreactive eyes, half-floating in mud and pools of their own blood. Flies buzz in clouds and his sandals squelch as he moves. He reaches reflexively for his swords sheathed in his obi, and his dislocated arm sends a jolt of pain up all the way to his shoulder and through to his spine. The long gash that Kurakawa Kouhei had given him with his spear smarts in the open air, but it's shallow, and the wound has stopped bleeding. It's early morning; most the battle fires are out and the few soldiers he sees are dying or running; Daigo has won.

The cost is yet to be determined.

He'd stayed up most of the night fighting off Kurakawa Kouhei's rebels with Dororo until they'd both collapsed. Many of the faces he sees staring lifelessly up at him are those of men and women he'd killed. He'd gotten Dororo to safety, though the details of that are hazy to him; Mizuha had probably helped. He had promised Dororo to search for Kurakawa, so he's here, looking for tracks.

There are too many, too muddy, too muddled. He knows Kurakawa had been injured and he knows where he and Dororo had lost track of him the previous night. He starts from there, following a trail made with bare feet that look to be about the size of Kurakawa's, and finds the riverbank.

Cold mist rises from the river as he walks, and he shivers, blinking blood and sweat out of his eyes.

He's hurt. Hurt badly, in more than one way. If he stops he will have to think about it, and he doesn't have that in him right now. He wants to find Kurakawa. It's concrete goal and he thinks he can manage it. Healing, recovery, feeling--all these things can come later.

He hears the sound of too-loud breathing behind him and turns with his swords out. It's Iwasa, out of breath. He's still in armor, dinged and bloody in places, but aside from a shallow cut to his face he appears unhurt.

"There you are," Iwasa says. "What are you doing out here? You need treatment."

"I'm fine," Hyakkimaru says. The tracks are getting fresher. In an hour, two maybe, he should find whoever's on the other end of them. 

"You're an idiot," Iwasa says. "Come back with me."

"No," Hyakkimaru says. He hasn't found Kurakawa yet.

"You're dead on your feet, man. C'mon."

"I have to finish something first."

Iwasa looks at him with a pained expression. "How long will it take?"

"I have no idea," Hyakkimaru says.

Iwasa purses his lips. "Sorry, Hyakkimaru, but I'm gonna have to insist. Dororo's awake. And...Daigo wants to see you."

Hyakkimaru just blinks at him. "Can't he wait?" he asks. "I'm looking for someone."

"It's important," Iwasa says.

Hyakkimaru looks at him and gets the vague unsettled sense in the pit of his stomach that he should run. Flee. This is still a war zone. All these years of trying to build something better had failed.

He blinks, then reminds himself that he trusts Iwasa. "Fine. Give me a minute." He squats down to the waterline, and says, "Tokku? You there?"

A tense minute passes with Iwasa standing over him, tapping his foot with impatience. Then Tokku's fish-like head emerges from the water in front of him. Hyakkimaru points to the footprints he'd been following, and Tokku nods.

"All right," Hyakkimaru says as he straightens up to face Iwasa. "I'm ready."

***

Iwasa takes him to the field hospital before leading him to Daigo. Most of the faces he sees are distressingly unfamiliar, given all the time he'd spent there in the past few weeks. Hyakkimaru had killed so many men the previous night. They had attacked him first, true, but--

He gets a flash of sense memory: a man's dark eyes radiating defiance as his sword cut between his eyes; another man's panicked scream as he'd attacked, then jumped the field hospital fence and fled. The women and children huddled at the edges of the field hospital, terrified; terrified of _him._

Iwasa sits him down on a bench and starts dabbing the cut on his forehead with a clean rag soaked in alcohol, and he flinches. "So you're on hospital duty now?" he mutters.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Iwasa says with a frown of intense concentration, "we're short-staffed. And you need treatment. If I'd left you out there much longer you might have gone septic and died on me, asshole."

 _Good,_ he thinks but doesn't say. He remembers back, seemingly a long time ago though it's only been a few months: remembers agreeing to help Daigo retrieve his bride, hoping that doing so would create more stability in Kaga and Konzo. Instead he'd sparked a war that had killed hundreds and will kill more. 

Iwasa stands and puts himself at his shoulder, bracing the joint so that he can pull Hyakkimaru's shoulder back into the socket. Hyakkimaru's vision whites out with pain for a few seconds, and he suddenly remembers something Jukai had muttered in his sleep when he'd stayed with him on the battlefield with the demonic tree: "...better...never been born." 

At the time, he'd thought Jukai was referring to Hyakkimaru himself, but when he'd asked, Jukai had dismissed that explanation in favor of one that Hyakkimaru doesn't think about often, because it doesn't square with the Jukai he'd known. 

He remembers it now: Jukai had been forced to torture people to death. Lots of people. His friends. Families with children. Treating the wounds of others, including Hyakkimaru, had been his form of atonement, but before Hyakkimaru had come along--and after he'd left--Jukai had struggled to find the purpose of his life.

Hyakkimaru understands him completely. He had been forced, by circumstances and Daigo, to kill any number of people, not to speak of demons. He'd taken up arms against unarmed civilians who had tried to stone and crush him to death with their weight, but they hadn't been soldiers; hadn't stood a chance against a monster like him. He had tried his best not to kill them outright, but they'd ended up dead all the same, by other swords if not his own. 

He'd also nearly watched Dororo be killed the previous night, fighting against other soldiers, other monsters. He'd nearly died himself.

Whole, but useless.

 _Better never born_.

"I don't like that look," Iwasa says as he puts his newly seated arm in a sling and tightens the knot over his good shoulder. "You're blaming yourself again."

"Shouldn't I?" He's surrounded by the dead and dying. He'd been inadequate to save them. He _is_ inadequate to save them; he's only ever been good at killing, and helping people achieve peace is beyond him. It's like Tarou all over again, on a grander scale. He hadn't even been able to stay with Iwasa, Akiko and Tarou last night...hadn't even killed Kouhei...

Iwasa looks him in the eye. "Blame that Kouhei bastard. Hell, blame me for not coming with you and for being slow as shit to get here in the first place. Blame Daigo; that's easy. But don't blame yourself. We couldn't have held off the horde of pigfuckers last night without you." He claps him on his good shoulder and helps him stand. "Now, come on already." 

He passes Hyakkimaru an onigiri as they walk toward Daigo's tent, and Hyakkimaru almost drops it because he doesn't deserve food or friends or any of it. But Iwasa glares at him until he takes a bite, so he takes one. His stomach rumbles with remembered hunger; he devours the whole thing in one go after that, and Iwasa gives him a self-satisfied smile.

His instincts still scream at him to run, get away, go back to the river--but it seems that Iwasa, at least, is sticking by him for the immediate future.

 _You trust Iwasa_ , he reminds himself.

 _You miss Dororo_ invades uninvited, but he's too tired to tamp that thought down. 

***

Hyakkimaru enters Daigo's tent behind Iwasa. Dororo is laid out in its center on a futon, talking to Daigo. It looks like she's trying to sit up, but she can't quite make it on her own, and Daigo makes no move to help her. Without quite thinking about it, Hyakkimaru kneels down next to her and props up her shoulder so that she can at least look people in the eye when she talks to them.

The assembled group in the tent is small: just him, Dororo, Daigo, and Iwasa. Hyakkimaru settles Dororo's shoulder to sit stably against his good arm and stares up at Daigo.

Daigo stares back, looking perturbed. "You two are incredibly stupid."

"Don't forget brave," Hyakkimaru puts in, because if this is a fight between Daigo and Dororo, he at least knows which side he's on.

"And selfless," Dororo adds with a firm nod.

"And incredibly stupid," Daigo hisses at them. Sunlight streaming in from a hole in the tent flashes across his scar. "Holding off an army of assassins with two people--what were you thinking?"

"Uh, that you and a bunch of innocent people would die?" Dororo says.

Hyakkimaru had thought the main goal was to kill Kouhei, but he supposes that also works as an explanation. 

Daigo talks about the missing spy, and Dororo expresses her doubts about him being missing: "No way in hell Kawakura betrays you," she says to Daigo. "No fucking way." Her face is flushed and she's breathing hard, so he uses his grip to pull her down so that her head is on his knees and she can breathe better.

"Language," Hyakkimaru mutters as he repositions her. He looks up at Daigo again. "I agree with Dororo. He was alive in the battle; we found him and tried to get him to safety. Is there any chance he was taken as a hostage?"

"Perhaps, but I've received no demands for ransom--or demands at all." He looks at the two of them for a few seconds. "This leaves us in something of a difficult position. I needed Dororo's political marriage to hold this province together. But now--"

"--we're at war," Dororo says with a gasp. "Crap. It's just like Iwasa said before. Okay. Okay. This is bad. Uh--"

"Stop panicking out loud. Focus," Hyakkimaru says. He already has a plan to find Kurakawa Yamato. Finding Kouhei comes after that...assuming he's here for the after. If his gut feeling is any indication, he's about to be given a nasty shock. Why else would Daigo want him here?

"Right. Um. Okay," Dororo mumbles inarticulately. "I need to get married to someone powerful to hold Asakura together. Okay. Are we sure there's no other way?" She tries to sit up again, but he holds her gently down; she can't breathe well yet while sitting upright.

"That's already been decided," Daigo says. 

Hyakkimaru looks at Iwasa for some sign or hint of what's coming, but Iwasa doesn't meet his eyes. 

Dororo frowns. "It has?"

Daigo gives Iwasa a nod, and Iwasa crouches down to Dororo's eye level. "A lot happened when you were asleep." Iwasa finally looks at Hyakkimaru, and the expression on his face is hard to read. "This was Kaguya's idea, not mine, so--forgive me." He takes a piece of paper out from his haori and hands it to Hyakkimaru. 

It's an adoption contract, for an heir to the Takeda clan. For reasons he doesn't even want to try to unravel, his own name is on it. "No," Hyakkimaru says. "You can't--"

"I did," Iwasa says. "It was the only way to keep you alive."

"What? What?" Dororo asks.

"Takeda Iwasa has made Hyakkimaru his heir," Daigo says. "Hyakkimaru has been adopted into the Takeda clan--or will be, after a few formalities are taken care of."

"But--why?"

"Hyakkimaru was seen outside the wedding tent in the same area as a half-dozen Asakura assassins," Daigo says. "He was already unpopular in Kaga. The fact that he saved me is irrelevant. He won't accept Daigo clan status, and with the true culprits gone it was easy to blame him for the mess. He failed to get Hitomi to Enuma, after all. Perhaps this was his plan. That sort of thing."

"All lies," Dororo says. "And I was next to him the whole time--how come I'm not a traitor and a spy?"

"Some say you are, though most consider you a hostage. Politics is all lies," Daigo says, and that may be the only statement Daigo has ever uttered that he and Hyakkimaru can fully agree on. "The only way to protect him from execution was with clan status. I can't protect a rogue ronin running around on an Asakura battlefield, but I can protect a retainer."

"Never asked for your protection," Hyakkimaru mutters under his breath, but it seems like no one hears him.

"Hyakkimaru can't have Daigo clan status without jeopardizing your social position," Daigo says. "So Takeda and I compromised."

"It's the best solution," Iwasa says, giving Hyakkimaru a pleading look before shifting his attention back to Dororo. "And besides, now you get a choice."

Dororo looks up at Iwasa. "What choice?"

"You can't marry into Asakura, not anymore, so we're your closest allies," Takeda says. "You can marry me. Or Hyakkimaru. Or one of my other relatives, if you like. I'll let you pick whichever one you want. Okay?" He hovers one hand over her forehead, and Hyakkimaru gets the sudden urge to slap it away. He represses the urge because Daigo is present, and because one of his arms is pinned under Dororo's back and the other is confined in a sling.

"You'll baby her," Daigo says. "She's not a child."

Dororo looks up at Iwasa with an expression of hope. "You mean--I can--"

"Yes," Iwasa says. He looks at Hyakkimaru, shifts as far away as he can from Iwasa without leaving Dororo unsupported. "You know I'll always support you, no matter what you do," Iwasa says. "I'm sorry. I know you hate it. But I couldn't let them kill you." And he smiles. "And I'm proud to call you brother."

Hyakkimaru doesn't say anything.

He should have run when his instincts had told him to.

All he can think is, _I trusted Iwasa._

***

He doesn't hear the rest of the conversation at all. He waits to be dismissed, then returns to the river, in the spot where he'd lost Kawakura's trail. Iwasa follows him and even tries to support him as he walks at one point, but he doesn't allow it.

"I'm fine," he says.

"You're half-dead and need rest."

"No such thing as half-dead," Hyakkimaru says as he crouches to examine muddy footprints. "Only alive, or dead." That's also one of Jukai's philosophies. He suddenly has the strong urge to talk to Kaname. Maybe he'll be able to give Hyakkimaru some insight into what Jukai would think of this situation.

"Don't play semantics with me right now," Iwasa says. "I don't have the stomach for it. You should really--" He pauses, then continues: "--acknowledge the situation you're in, at some point."

Hyakkimaru believes that he has acknowledged his situation; he has simply not chosen a course of action yet, and he doesn't want to. Right now Hyakkimaru is in favor of ignoring everything inconvenient until it goes away. Everything but tracking. Tracking is familiar and soothing and he doesn't have to be in good physical condition to do it.  
  
Iwasa kneels down next to Hyakkimaru, also looking at the tracks. "Who do these belong to?" he asks.

"I don't know," he says, "but I have a strong suspicion..." The surface of the water bubbles in front of him, and Tokku emerges and whispers in his ear. "I know where they went," he says, feeling his arm, shoulder and chest constrict with pain as he stands.

Iwasa stands too, and looks dangerously close to offering him an arm again.

"I'm fine," he mutters as he lurches into motion. Iwasa follows him, at a slight distance. They travel a little ways further along the river until they reach a muddy deer track that forks: sheer rock cliffs to one side of the river and deepening forest on the other. Hyakkimaru chooses the cliff side, based on Tokku's information, and quickly discovers an opening in the stone just barely wide enough to fit a person.

A still figure lies unmoving in a shallow cave beyond the gap in the rock. Hyakkimaru peers into the cave and sees Kurakawa there, half-covered by bracken and leaves. The mouth of the cave is partially blocked by debris, so getting in is something of a challenge; if Hyakkimaru hadn't known Kawakura was somewhere around here, he might not have thought to look in it.

Only--wait--as he looks around the cave, he realizes it has all the hallmarks of his usual wilderness haunts: enclosed shelter, hidden entrance, narrow, easy to miss. It's a lot like the caves he and Dororo used to hide in, back when he'd had to hide from Kurakawa and Oosuji's overzealous searching.  
  
"I knew it," Hyakkimaru says as he kneels down in front of Kawakura Yamato. "I knew you weren't a traitor. And I knew you weren't dead." He finds Kurakawa's pulse awkwardly with his right hand. It's weak, but it's there, and he begins a clinical diagnosis of his injuries before deciding on a course of treatment: blood loss, minor infection, dehydration, a wrist that appears to be sprained or broken from when his restraints were removed; nothing worse. He is weak and tired, from the look of it, but Hyakkimaru strongly suspects he'll live.

Iwasa stumbles into the cave after him, and whistles impressively. "That's--Daigo's spy, isn't it? You actually found him?"

"Looks like." 

Iwasa appears at his side--no easy feat in such tight quarters--and the two of them together manage to support Kurakawa's dead weight, with Hyakkimaru out in front and Kurakawa sandwiched between him and Iwasa. They get out of the cave in a line, then support Kurakawa on their shoulders as they walk back to camp.

"He needs the hospital," Hyakkimaru says doesn't see any deep wounds, but a few defensive wounds on his arms and legs have scabbed over and gone yellow with infection, and it's likely he hasn't eaten in days.

"So do you."

"You already patched me up."

"Yeah," Iwasa says from between his teeth. "I'm--a little worried about you. You need to just--sit, for a while."

Hyakkimaru pulls Kurakawa's arm up on his good shoulder. "Make me."

"Mental age of two. Understood." They walk in silence for a while. The camp comes into view, beyond the river and the trees, and Hyakkimaru senses someone moving closer and freezes.

"What is it?" Iwasa asks as he also halts to prevent Kawakura from falling.

"I don't know," he says. His senses are dull and unfocused, but there seems to be someone--

"There," he points.

Most of the mist from the morning has lifted, but some still lingers at the edges of the trees. Hyakkimaru sees a pair of legs take on form in the mist, vanishing and disappearing as they move, and he blinks; it's an optical illusion of some sort, or he's very tired.

The legs lengthen and become the figure of a tall woman with a scarred face and a familiar stance. Hyakkimaru stands still again when he recognizes her, and Iwasa waves her over with an expression of something like relief.

"Is he--alive?" she asks without looking at either one of them.

"He'll be fine, Oosuji-san," Iwasa says in a reassuring tone. "He's barely hurt. Just weak."

"Can I--" she reaches out a hand, tentatively, as if she wants to carry him herself. 

Hyakkimaru takes a step away from Kurakawa and offers her the arm he's been supporting. She takes it with a firm nod. This close, he can tell that Oosuji is crying openly, but it doesn't show in her shoulders or carry over into her tone. She takes over supporting Kawakura and is briefly too stunned and emotive for speech, but she eventually manages: "Thank. You."

Hyakkimaru shrugs and winces when the pain of movement goes through his newly set arm.

"I won't forget," Oosuji says with the solemnity of a vow. "I won't."

She and Iwasa move off toward the field hospital, leaving Hyakkimaru alone. He doesn't want to go back to the hospital to be babied by Iwasa--or, worse--Oosuji--so he decides to go see Daigo and give him the news that Kawakura's been found.

He limps as he walks, feet half-tripping over one another; he tries to force his posture into a correct stance but he keeps slumping. He remembers the look in Oosuji's eyes when she'd found them, thanked them; he'd saved her partner from death by exposure, and...

...wait. Why had he done that?

It had been something to do. He'd lost track of Kawakura in the battle. But that still begs the question of why he'd choose to save him in the first place. It isn't like he and Kurakawa are friends; the opposite is true. He supposes that finding Kurakawa had given him an excuse to run away from Daigo's tent and the knowledge that his life's been signed away without his consent--again. But he's returning to Daigo's tent again right now.

His head hurts.

He gets to Daigo's tent and is told by the guards that he's out inspecting the perimeter of the camp for stragglers and gathering supplies before they march back to Enuma. He turns on his heel, about to walk away and go god knows where to do who knows what with the headache burning the back of his eyes when he hears someone call out, "Aniki? Is that you?"

He freezes. 

He still doesn't entirely know where he and Dororo stand with one another. They haven't talked about a lot of things, and he feels too exhausted to talk about them now. He also has no place to go until he's well enough to travel again, so he lifts the front of Daigo's tent flap and enters.

Everything appears similar to how it had in the morning, except that Iwasa and Daigo are gone and Hitomi is here, hanging wet bandages on a makeshift clothesline strung between two bamboo poles embedded in the ground. Dororo is the same as he left her, lying on her futon, but her eyes are alert and her breathing sounds better.

"You came to see Daigo?" Dororo asks when he comes in. "Why?"

"I found Kawakura," he says. "Thought I'd report."

"No way! Where was he?"

"Up the river a ways. Iwasa and Oosuji helped me get him to the hospital. He'll be fine in a few days."

Dororo half sits up and whistles like she's impressed. "How did you even know where he'd be? I thought he got away from us."

Hyakkimaru thinks for a second. "Remember when he used to chase us around? He liked staking out the caves first--it's why we had to move our first and second rendezvous points. He kept finding them. So I asked myself, where around here would a guy like that pick to hide? And there he was."

"Brilliant," Dororo says. "You're a fucking genius. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Tokku helped me. You also lost more blood than I did," he says.

"Ugh, don't remind me," she says. "Everything's got spots. Your face has spots. They're mostly black with rainbow colors."

"You should probably drink more water," he says. "I'll get some--"

"In a minute." She tugs at his haori, preventing him from leaving. 

Hitomi bows out of the tent, and Hyakkimaru hopes she's getting water.

"What?" he asks Dororo.

"Thank you. For finding him. Maybe," she says, smiling, "maybe you and Kawakura can actually be friends now. Oosuji definitely won't hate you anymore."

"We'll see," he says.

She nods. "By the way...not that I mind, but why are you talking to me again?"

"Because we're stuck together whether I want it or not." It's blunt, and kind of angry, but honest. Unless he decides to cut ties with Iwasa and Konzo and run, he won't be rid of Daigo for the rest of his natural life. And he wants to be. In some ways, that's all he's ever wanted--to be free of the man who did his darned and utter best to ruin his life.

"Mean," Dororo says with a huff as she folds her arms.

"Yeah. Family trait. Sorry." He really is sorry. Daigo got Dororo caught up in his schemes, too. Like him, she's inextricably stuck. They're in this together, willing or not. Maybe it's always been this way.

Dororo tugs his sleeve again to make him look at her. "I won't make you marry me," she says. "I promise."

He gives her a bitter smile and thinks, _We'll see._

Hitomi eventually returns with water, and says she'll pass Hyakkimaru's message to Daigo. He says goodbye to Dororo and goes back to the field hospital. Oosuji has an unconscious Kurakawa laid out on a cot with both of her hands in his, still crying, and Hyakkimaru reflects that he and Oosuji both almost lost someone last night. The thought makes something in his chest ache that has nothing to do with his spear wound.

***

Daigo's people plan on getting out of Asakura territory as quickly as possible, licking their wounds. The Daigo clan may have held their ground and succeeded in making the marriage happen, but they lack the resources to hold Amagi against Asakura over winter, and everyone knows it. For all practical intents and purposes, this is a strategic retreat. The rebel Asakura clan retains Amagi--for now.

The first planned stop is Konzo, so Hyakkimaru's not going to be pulled back to Kaga anytime soon, at any rate. He rides in the same wagon with Dororo and Iwasa, and the way is muddy and treacherous. Dororo lays on her back or her stomach because she's still not well enough to sit up, and they complain about the weather and food and other meaningless things until Iwasa goes to sleep. Hyakkimaru lights an oil lamp so that they can see in the dark; Dororo has reports to read and sign, and Hyakkimaru pores over his Takeda adoption contract.

Iwasa's snores fill the inside of the wagon. It creaks as it is pulled through mud and over stones; somewhere nearby, thunder shakes the ground and it starts to rain. The rain stops suddenly, and a long silence stretches out between them, tense and uncomfortable. Dororo looks up from one of her papers on the floor and says, "I'm sorry I used Mio's name."

Hyakkimaru blinks and sets his contract aside. "Where did that come from?"

"You didn't let me apologize before, so I'm apologizing now," she says. 

"Forget it," he says, returning his attention to tax-raising responsibilities and vassal/retainer loyalty expectations.

"It upset you, and I won't. Just--accept the apology and let's move on. Okay?"

Move on? Move on to what? He shakes his head, and without looking up from reading he says, "I thought you were a different person. A better person. That's--that's why I was mad."

Dororo snorts laughter. "Did you think I was some kind of saint? That I never make boneheaded mistakes or forget about other people's feelings? 'Cause I do. All the time." She raises herself to her elbows, and her eyes catch the dim light of the oil lamp. A pause. Then she says, "Huh. You know what? I get it."

He frowns and looks at her. "Get--what?"

"You did that with Mio and you did that with me," she says. "Maybe Jukai too--you see some people as so good that to think anything negative about them breaks your trust with them. It hurts you, finding out you were mistaken. I used to think the same way about my parents, before..." she trails off. "Anyway. I get it. I'm sorry." She tries to glance at what he's reading, but can't get the height in her current state. "You're not perfect, either."

"I'm aware."

"Can you put that stupid paper away and talk to me? Please?"

He looks away from the paper again, giving her his full attention. "What?"

"It's just," she says, "even when you weren't here, I knew you were out somewhere killing monsters and making people safer, and that made me feel better. Now I feel like Daigo's trying to cage you, and it's all my fault." He blinks, stunned at having his own perspective reflected back at him.

"But," Dororo says, "you're not me. You're not all that well-known among the daimyos and samurai class, and you're not adopted by Takeda yet. You could run. Find a different land. Someplace else to live."

"And leave you behind."

"You've done it before," Dororo says. "And besides, I think staying this close to Daigo will just make you miserable. Am I wrong?"

She's not wrong. He and Daigo have a tentative sort of peace--they're no longer trying to kill each other--but doing as Daigo says, even through an intermediary like Iwasa who he still mostly considers a friend, is always going to gall some part of him. 

"If I go, you could come with me."

Dororo huffs a little disappointed sigh. "You--invited me, this time. Thank you. But I can't. I'm hurt right now, for one, worse than you. And I've made promises--anyway, I can't go back on them. I'd be disappointing too many people." She lays flat on her back and looks at the ceiling of the wagon. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For keeping you in Enuma so long. For being selfish. For not letting you go when you wanted to. You're right; this really is all my fault. I need to, just...stop. Stop pining for you, and let you go."

"And you'd be okay with that?"

"I'd accept it, because I want you to be happy."

He doesn't know what to say to that, so he sits in silence. This time, the silence between them lasts.

Hyakkimaru thinks, _Stop pining? For_ **him?** Why?

And then he gets the sensation of a large stone settling in his stomach, and he understands: this is Dororo's way of telling him she's in love with him. That she has been, and hasn't told him until now for reasons he is also only just beginning to understand.

It--hurts. Unexpectedly so. He's been so confused about Daigo's manipulation and control over everything he cares about that he's had no time to really parse his emotions, but this one hits him hard. If he hadn't been sitting already, he might have been knocked over by it.   
  
"I--want you to be happy, too," he says after a long while, clenching his hands over his roiling gut in an instinctive gesture of self-comfort.

When he looks over at Dororo, she is sound asleep.

***

Early the next morning they stop to repair the wheels that have lost spokes to mud and rocks over the course of the night, and Hyakkimaru sneaks out of the wagon where Dororo is still sleeping and sits next to one of the cooking fires. He pores over his adoption contract in the dawn light, trying to figure out which parts apply to the adoptive family and which apply to the adoptee. It's surprisingly complicated, and he calls over Iwasa to help him make sense of it all.

When he'd awakened that morning, his stomach had still felt low and heavy with remembered pain like guilt or remorse. That horrible feeling had made him decide to stay with the wagon train, at least for a little while. It's better and safer to travel with a group until they reach Konzo, anyway, and once he's there he'll make some more definitive decisions. To do that effectively, he needs information about what his choices actually are, so he asks Iwasa to explain the adoption to him in the clearest possible terms.

"It's pretty simple for you, actually," Iwasa says. "I adopt you as my brother. You're younger than me, which is convenient, because it'll look like I'm setting you up to be my heir, at least until I have my own crotchgoblins running around."

"...crotchgoblins?"

"I don't like children."

"You liked Akiko and Tarou."

"I was terrified of you," Iwasa says with dead seriousness. "And they weren't kids, man, they were warriors. From the moment you picked 'em up, practically."

He shrugs. "If you say so. Anyway, what are my obligations?"

"In the first year you commit to fight in my army--you do that anyway so it's not a huge change--and commit a portion of the funds you raise for taxes. I think this is actually less than what Kaguya wheedles out of you in a year, but I took a guess and she agreed to it."

"And after the first year?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"This is the part you won't like," Iwasa says. "Unfortunately, you've gotta marry someone. It's clan law."

"What?"

"Yeah, sorry," Iwasa says, pointing to a part of the adoption contract that had confused Hyakkimaru the night before. "This same contract binds me, too, y'know. I have to get married in the same time frame, and before you."

"Why?"

"We don't want a succession crisis between my kids and your kids," Iwasa says. "It's standard practice for families with multiple sons for the oldest to get married first. That's me."

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks. But you're going to have to pick someone to marry, too. Your options are the devil you know, or whoever wants to get in good with my family. Kaguya's probably hoping to take a shot."

"Let her. Might be interesting." He sighs. "No way out of this part, huh?"

"You could become a priest."

"There's an idea. What's Biwamaru's monk order, again?"

Iwasa smiles at him, and he smiles back, though it feels hollow. Iwasa manipulated him into this--uncomfortable--situation to save his skin. Perhaps he'll find room in his heart to be grateful for that, someday. 

Iwasa taps the paper. "I know it's not your style, but I'd feel better if there were at least a couple of miniature yous running around to prevent the world from falling into utter ruin in the future."

"We've got Akiko and Tarou," he insists again.

"Imagine what they could do with your genetics."

"You're presumptuous. And kind of gross." And they're also Daigo's genetics, which squicks him more than anything else.

Iwasa nods in mock agreement and says, "You know me too well, brother. And I know you. I'll set up some matches for you to try out, first. Of course, you have the discretion to pick whoever you want, but I am going to have to insist that you choose."

He sighs inwardly. "Fine. By when?"

"First of the new year, after the second year of your adoption. That's in the adoption contract, too. So really, it's closer to two and a half years."

Hyakkimaru nods, and decides that he has got to get better at reading things he hates. "Thanks, Iwasa."

"Anytime." Iwasa glances at him sidelong. "Does this mean you're not going to run for the hills as soon as we get home?"

"Don't know. Haven't decided."

"Well, let me know when you decide, will you? I'll pack you a bag or something."

Hyakkimaru's eyes widen. Does that mean--Iwasa had planned for him to run? He'd lied to Daigo only to save Hyakkimaru's life? He plans to cover for him, contract or no contract?

Iwasa taps him on the shoulder. "You're a million miles away," he says. "Where did you go?"

"I doubted you," Hyakkimaru says. "I'm sorry." He's saying that a lot lately.

"'S okay. I doubt myself continuously. It's my natural state." The hand on Hyakkimaru's shoulder tightens into a grip. In a disappointed tone, he says, "If you ever doubt I'm on your side again, I'll shoot you in the fucking face."

"I'd deserve it," Hyakkimaru says.

"You wouldn't," Iwasa says, using his grip on Hyakkimaru's shoulder to push himself into a standing position. "You're not used to people doing right by you. But I hoped you'd know by now that I'd never back you into a corner without giving you a way out. I owe you too much. Hell, I _like_ you too much."

"Why?"

Iwasa squints confusion at him. "Fishing for compliments? You?"

"Compliments?" Dororo loves him. Iwasa loves him. Tarou and Akiko love him. Jukai had loved him enough to give up his own life to save him. Tokku practically hero-worships him and Mizuha mother-hens over him as if she actually is his mother. Mio had thought he was special, different than other people. He doesn't understand any of it at all, and he feels utterly undeserving of all it. 

"Ah, no." Iwasa's squint deepens with his frown. "You don't realize how many people you've helped, how many you've saved. You're still atoning for something I don't get, and I respect that, I do, but you should at least realize that you're a good person and that a lot of people like you, right? That should be really fucking obvious to you by now."

Hyakkimaru knows that Daigo had thrown him away: that feels real, has always felt real. The ideas that people want him around or need him around are almost entirely new. Some part of him has always felt like he's been imposing his existence on others; taking responsibility when no one else was around to, even though anyone else could have done a better job than him. He's still trying to figure out his path, even after everything he's been through. He assumes that given the same set of circumstances, other people would have done better than he has; figured it all out by now. Is he--wrong about that?

Hyakkimaru doesn't look at Iwasa, and Iwasa whistles like he's impressed. "So you just realized that? Wow, man. Sorry. You want a hug?"

"No." Emphatically not. 

"C'mon, it doesn't have to be me. I'll go get the kids or something."

"I don't need it," he says. He looks up at Iwasa again. "I need to think. Thanks for explaining the contract for me."

"Anytime, brother," he says, flashing his most winning smile. "And if you change your mind about that hug, you know where to find me."


	16. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyakkimaru catches Dororo's eye; she waves, but he doesn't wave back. "She's going to rip her stitches again."
> 
> "Probably, yeah." Iwasa bumps his shoulder. "I guess this is it, then. The moment of truth."
> 
> "Huh?" 
> 
> "Your first match is in Enuma," he says. "If you're going to run, you'll have to do it before you get there."
> 
> In his relief at having marriage meetings postponed for a few more days, Hyakkimaru had completely lost sight of the fact that he'd have to go to Enuma. Again. Daigo keeps pulling him deeper in, though he hardly understands why.
> 
> "Yeah," he says. "I'm...still not sure."
> 
> "Neither am I," Iwasa says. "But I have to do something. Before it's too late."

It's four days to Konzo from Amagi in good weather, and aside from the occasional brief rainstorm, they have it.

Dororo is confined to the wagon aside from meals and bathing for the first two days, but by the third she is well enough to walk unassisted for short distances. Her leg still twitches uncontrollably whenever she stands still, but it seems like she won't be permanently crippled by battle wounds.

She stands in the sunlight with her feet dipped in a small creek, watching minnows and other small fish swim around her legs. She looks up at the sky, entirely cloudless, and takes a deep breath, feeling briefly entirely at peace.

Something moving catches the corner of her eye, and when she turns she sees a woman in a dark kimono approaching the river. She turns completely around to get a better look, and recognizes Hitomi.

She waves, and immediately regrets it as black spots cloud her vision and she almost loses her footing. "Hitomi-san!"

"Dororo-san," Hitomi says, kicking off her sandals and rushing into the creek to catch Dororo before she falls. "Are you all right?

"I'm fine," she says as she regains her footing. "Just--a little dizzy."

Hitomi helps her to the other side of the creek, and they sit under a wide oak in the shade. Dororo can see the camp's cooking fires in the middle distance. 

She stretches extravagantly, but slowly, and yawns. She's always sleepy lately. Hyakkimaru tells her it's blood loss and to drink more water. She doesn't tell him that Daigo says the exact same thing to her every night.

"How are you feeling?" Hitomi asks.

"Better," Dororo says with a bright smile. "I'll live, I think. And maybe even without permanent damage." Hyakkimaru's encyclopedic knowledge of medicine is something she is passingly familiar with, but she hadn't really had to rely on his medical knowledge to save her own life before now. Between his knowledge of salves and Hitomi's knowledge of poisons and antidotes, they could start an apothecary--or a really good hospital.

"I'm glad," Hitomi says. "You--truly are kind. I do not think I would be as generous, in your place."

"Huh?" Dororo asks. This is going to be another political thing that she just doesn't get, isn't it?

"I married your foster father. My children could supplant you as heir. My clan caused a costly war just before the onset of winter. You nearly died. You have every right to be furious with me."

Dororo brings her knees up and hugs them briefly against her chest, and she feels a slight trickle of blood moving underneath her bandages. A breeze blows off the creek, and it's cool enough to make her remember that winter's only a few months off. "Is Daigo mad at you?"

Hitomi blinks. "Well--no."

"Then why should I be?" she asks, stretching her arms again and giving in to another yawn. "It's not like you told your family to try to kill you or anything--did you? Because that would be confusing."

"No, of course not," Hitomi says primly. "Whether or not the situation is considered my fault is inconsequential. I only considered that my current position might make you angry."

Dororo hms. "Nope."

Hitomi frowns at her in a way that is familiar to Dororo; she's seen the exact expression on the faces of Hiroko and her etiquette instructors dozens if not hundreds of times. "'Nope'?" Hitomi repeats. "Why?"

Dororo doesn't even need to think about that: "You always tried to do the right thing to promote peace, even when it hurt you and your family." Hyakkimaru had begged Daigo for Hitomi's life. "I trust you, Hitomi-san. And besides, I didn't agree to be Daigo's heir because I wanted to rule anything."

"You would--support my children's claim, over yours? Is that possible?"

Dororo glances at her sidelong. "How long have you been worried about this, Hitomi-san?"

"Since...since just before the wedding. When it was clear that the wedding would happen."

Dororo sighs, and it almost turns into a yawn again. She wants tea. She tries to extend her bad leg too fast and lets out a hiss of pain as some of her stitches audibly reopen; she needs a change of bandages fairly soon. "I, uh," she gasps, "hurt myself a little. Again. Help me?"

Hitomi supports her on one shoulder as they limp the meager distance back to camp. Hitomi deposits Dororo gently on the ground and sits next to her. "Are you hurt? May I see?"

"No, it's--" Dororo puts up her hands as Hitomi reaches for V-crease of her kimono, and again for the bandages on her leg. "I just need to sit, for a minute. I'll be all right until it's time to change the bandage."

Hitomi nods, and kneels down next to her. She opens a basket full of onigiri and wild nuts, and Dororo's eyes lock on the food to the exclusion of all else. She almost always feels hungry--growing up as a starving orphan had left her with that feeling if little else--but since her injury, her appetite has increased by a factor of two.

"I'm glad you're back to eating normally," Hitomi says. "I--hope you live for a long, long time, Dororo-san."

Dororo smiles. "Don't worry about me. Rebel armies have tried to kill me before, and failed."

Hitomi's eyes widen. "I hadn't considered that we had so much in common."

Dororo laughs through her nose. "I suppose that's why you're so good with poisons."

"One of the reasons," Hitomi says. "I mostly picked it up from my parents. My father was a great archer, even from horseback, and my mother prepared tinctures for poisoned arrows. When I got old enough, I helped her."

Dororo winces a little. "Poisoned arrows are a pretty nasty way to kill someone."

"I prefer to think of it as efficient," Hitomi says lightly, "but I take your meaning. When I was very young, my clan was constantly at war, so we needed all the advantages we could get. When I think back on it, all I remember is disaster after disaster--earthquakes, fires, floods, attacking armies, running..." Her hand climbs to the scar on her face and settles there for a moment. "I know the last few weeks have been a nightmare, but before that we had almost a decade of peace. I'd...I'd like to go back to that."

Dororo smiles. "Me to. Of course, that depends on Kurakawa and the rebel Asakura clan..." There's movement from farther into the camp, and Dororo catches a glimpse of a familiar black-and-white kimono with ragged muddy edges. For half a second she sees the Daigo mon dyed in white, but she blinks and it changes to the Takeda mon instead.

Ah. Right. Hyakkimaru is Takeda now. She keeps forgetting because it seems so weird. She waves at him and Iwasa as they approach, and immediately regrets it as the wound in her abdomen leaks more blood.

Hitomi greets Hyakkimaru and Iwasa politely, and Iwasa bows, but Hyakkimaru doesn't bother; instead he kneels down and stares at Dororo so intensely she feels like all of her skin's about to peel off. "You're bleeding again and you ripped your stitches," he says.

Dororo nods, guilty, and Hitomi says, "What?"

"Probably went down to the river like an idiot again," he mutters.

"It's a creek and I'm fine," she says. Just...bleeding a little, is all. Nothing hurts as badly as it did a week ago.

"Every time you open your wounds you risk infection," he says, and his tone is exasperated but not angry; he is used to her being reckless about injury, perhaps because he's reckless in the same way. "Can you walk?"

"Probably. Should I walk?"

He gives her another flensing stare and says, "No. Iwasa, help me get her up."

"You got it."

"Hey!" She lets out a little grunt as she's pulled to her feet, Hyakkimaru at one shoulder and Iwasa at the other. Hyakkimaru lifts her legs and supports her spine, and then she's being carried to the medical tents with Hitomi and Iwasa on either side of her. 

"Oi," she says to Hyakkimaru, "are you sure I shouldn't walk?"

"Walking got you in this state in the first place."

"Hmph."

Daigo's medical tent is empty when they reach it, so Dororo can get her bandages changed in some semblance of privacy. Hyakkimaru lies her down on the tarp covering the ground while Hitomi prepares a bedroll and starts boiling water from a barrel; Iwasa goes to get more bandages, since the tent is low on some supplies. Hyakkimaru stands and starts to leave to find Hiroko, since she's both the most qualified and most dignified person to change Dororo's bandages, but Dororo catches his sleeve.

"I, uh, ripped my stitches. Again."

His eyes narrow. "I know." If it's just her leg, Hiroko can handle the relatively simple knots, but the more complex suturing of her gut wound is another matter. "Where?"

"Uh, abdomen and leg. Kind of a lot."

He rolls his eyes and mutters something she doesn't quite catch. Iwasa returns with more bandages and excuses himself; Hitomi waits with them for the water to boil so they can clean and disinfect the old bandages. "I'm sorry I didn't notice her condition earlier, Hyakkimaru-san."

"It's fine," he says. "You're not a doctor, and she's stupid about these things."

"I can hear you."

"I wasn't talking to you. Anyway," he says, giving his full attention to Hitomi. "I need to fix her stitches and make sure her internal injuries haven't gotten worse, so if you could excuse us..."

"Of course," Hitomi says. She goes to the front of the tent and bows. "Excuse me."

"The next time you carry me, I'll pitch a fit," Dororo says as soon as she leaves.

"If you can manage it in your condition, go ahead. It would ease my mind." He takes the pulse on her wrist and says, "Will you undress, or do you want me to--"

"It's all right. I can do it." She swallows on the recognition that she must have been naked, or close to it, when he'd first patched her up. Hiroko had been taking care of changing her clothes and bandages while she'd been stuck in the wagon, but she hadn't really considered her condition before that. She unties her obi and sets it aside, undoing layers slowly until she manages to loosen the garment on one side. That done, she spreads the left and right flaps wide, revealing her stomach, then her leg, but she keeps her arms in the sleeves. Somehow it makes her feel less naked.

"You're going to get blood on this unless I hang it up somewhere. Is that all right?"

Hiroko will kill her. Her shoulders slump. She half-sits up and frees her arms from the layers of kimono, and Hyakkimaru takes it and drapes it over a low table. He rubs a bone needle against his kimono and passes it through the fire quickly a few times to disinfect it, then wraps thread around the nub that serves as an eye. He approaches her as if this is totally normal and fine and she is not lying naked and bleeding in front of her best friend _again_.

He sits beside her and looks closely at the places where the knots have come undone on her leg, and marks places for new holes with the needle. 

The silence is unnerving. "You--really don't feel anything, looking at naked people, huh," she says as he measures out even positioning of the holes for her new stitches.

"All I see right now is that you're hurt," he says as the needle pokes the skin, ten milometers or more in front of the last suture hole. "You don't need to worry about modesty. I've seen hundreds of people naked. I've also seen people with their intestines spilling out and their limbs rotting off." He pauses in his meticulous marking for new stitches to look her in the eye. "I see your injuries, not your nakedness."

"Hm," she says, though she doesn't really feel better about any of this. "Must be a doctor thing."

"Maybe," he says, "but, leaving other people aside, I've seen you naked and half-naked enough times that this shouldn't be that embarrassing, right?" He frowns, and tightens one of the existing knots; the pain makes her gasp. "Are you okay?" She nods, and he says, "Now that I think about it, you were always like this."

"Like...what?"

"Ashamed of letting your body be seen," he says. "I never understood it. Probably because I couldn't actually see, but...I still don't really get it."

She folds her arms over her breasts in an unconscious gesture of self-protection. "You understand rape, don't you?"

He blanches and pauses in pulling the thread through. "I--yes, I understand that. But you don't think that I--"

"No," Dororo says, "but nakedness is vulnerability, and rapists are people who exploit that. I'm--uncomfortable, being weak and hurt in front of you."

"Me, specifically?" he asks as he resumes stitching. "Or anyone?"

"Good question." Who else has seen her naked? Hiroko. Maybe Daigo's spies, though she's never caught them tailing her from an onsen or anything. Her parents, of course. Itachi, when he'd ripped away her kimono to reveal the treasure map. And Hyakkimaru. That's it. Her experience with Itachi is a violation on multiple levels that she's never fully recovered from; she puts the lid on those memories as soon as they surface. She's irritated by Hiroko's fussing over her, but not embarrassed by it. What she feels now is different--not violation, and not irritation.

She identifies the emotion as fear.

"I...think it's just you," she says.

He doesn't say anything for a while after that. He finishes tying off and cutting the thread on her leg and gut wounds, and checks the stitching on each, which tickles a little. Then he gets up and retrieves her kimono. He settles the V of the fabric over her shoulders so it's easier for her to get dressed alone, and then he moves toward the entrance to the tent.

He says, with his back to her: "I don't like seeing you weak and hurt, either."

The tent flap opens and shuts. Dororo gets dressed alone, and starts wondering when she started being afraid of Hyakkimaru.

***

Hyakkimaru stops at Daigo's command tent to give Daigo the news that Dororo's ripped her stitches again and won't be in any condition to sit upright for the next few days. He feels the scabbed-over edges of his chest wound chafe as he walks and grits his teeth; he probably should have let Iwasa carry Dororo. Sometimes, he wonders if she's reopening her wounds on purpose. Probably not--Dororo has always had a wide and expressive way of moving, and if she doesn't curtail that she'll probably keep bleeding for a long time.

In some ways, it's convenient for her. There can be no threat of renewed participation in a battle, or of marriage and omiai, when she can't even sit up.

It is hugely inconvenient for Hyakkimaru, because Daigo has ordered him to report changes in her condition as they occur, and that order had been seconded by Iwasa. He'd have no trouble disobeying Daigo, but he usually agrees with what Iwasa asks him to do. 

When he'd asked him about that order, Iwasa had just shrugged and said, "You've kind of been her bodyguard forever, right? And you're the most competent doctor we've got. I trust your opinion on her recovery more than I'd trust anyone else's."

"Sure," he says, "but why do you need to know?"

"Because Daigo needs to know," Iwasa says. "We have an alliance and Dororo is his heir. It's not like the task is too hard for you."

"But then...I have to..." Talk. To Daigo. A lot more than he's ever had to. 

"Talk to that bastard," Iwasa says in sudden understanding. "I see. Well, let's hope she gets better fast then, huh?"

Given that Dororo manages to reinjure herself every couple of days, Hyakkimaru has had a stressful week.

He announces himself to the guards in front of Daigo's tent. One of them is Oosuji, who excuses herself to go somewhere as he passes; the other lets him in.

Daigo sits on a low cushion with maps and charts spread open on all four sides of him, looking perturbed. He is alone.

That's unusual, but not unexpected. It is not near any meal time and the camp is not set to move until midday. Hyakkimaru clears his throat.

Daigo doesn't look up. "I left orders not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency."

"Dororo ripped her stitches."

Daigo looks up. "Again. This is, what, the fourth time?"

Fifth, actually, but one had only involved her leg, and Hiroko had taken care of it, so Hyakkimaru had not reported it. Hyakkimaru stifles the impulse to yell at Daigo and insist that the injuries are all his fault to begin with, and continues in an expressionless tone, "I don't think she should move around unassisted for at least two days."

"That bad, huh?"

He'd begged Dororo to stay in the tent with Daigo on the night of the battle. If she had, she'd be fine now. "It's the worst I've seen it," he says. "But I think the internal injuries are doing better."

"Is there a high risk of infection?"

"Always," he says, "but as long as the bandages get changed regularly, I'm not overly concerned about that." He can treat infection. He's more concerned about what Daigo has planned for Dororo after she recovers.

"Is her life in danger?"

Hyakkimaru's heart stops for a second. Daigo always asks this question, and he hates it. "No."

"Good," he says. "Is there a way to speed the recovery?"

Hyakkimaru shrugs. "Rest, drink water, eat well, and sleep. I think Konzo will be a better environment for all those things than the road."

"I agree," Daigo says. "We should arrive tomorrow--perhaps the day after." He nods assertively, then says, "Thank you for your report. Now leave me alone."

"With pleasure."

Daigo's mouth quirks upward, and he waves him out of the tent.

 _Dororo,_ he thinks helplessly as he leaves, _please don't rip your stitches again._

Hyakkimaru makes his ways to his own tent on the Takeda side of the camp. His hands are trembling slightly, vibrating as if he is nervous. 

He remembers how Jukai's white aura got hazy and shaky around the edges whenever he was afraid of losing a patient. Perhaps Hyakkimaru had picked up his habits--though Dororo's life is hardly in danger. Aside from what he'd told Daigo, he can't think of any ways to make a patient recover faster, but he remembers that Jorogumo has a kind of healing magic. Mizuha might as well. It's worth looking into, anyway--but only if her life really is in danger. He's not about to force a magical cure just so that Daigo can get what he wants faster.

When he lifts his own tent flap, he finds Oosuji Sayaka sitting seiza, directly facing him. He stops, stunned, and his trembling hands twitch toward his swords. "You're--not here to attack me, are you?" 

She gives him a sharp smile. "I came to thank you," she says, indicating a decanter of sake and two bowls beside her. "Please sit."

He approaches warily and sits down. Oosuji pours two cups of sake and hands one to him. Hyakkimaru waits for her to drink hers before he downs his own cup. The sake burns going down, but his hands feel a little steadier. "Thanks," he says as he sets the sake cup aside, "but you don't have to thank me again."

"I owe you a debt of thanks," Oosuji says, "all the more so because you trust me so little. If there is anything I can do for you--ever--do not hesitate to call on me." She rises abruptly and bows. 

Oosuji takes a step away from him, like she's about to leave, and Hyakkimaru blurts out, "Could you, uh..." He looks at the ground. 

"Yes?" Oosuji stops where she is and looks at him.

"You're a spy," he says.

"You noticed?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't...know of any ways to make me disappear, would you?"

"Disappear." It's not a question. "What did you do, Hyakkimaru-san? Is my master planning to kill you again?"

"I--don't think so. But I'm...not sure about my current path." If he never has to say two words to Daigo ever again, it'll be too soon. The physical and emotional strain of being made responsible for the life of Daigo's heir--even though it's _Dororo_ \--when he'd been carelessly tossed away catches up to him. "I want a way out," he says. "In case I need it." 

"Ah." Oosuji nods as if she understands completely. "Then you need a contingency, not a disappearance. I have some people I could talk to about that, and I could give you some options, but..." She spreads her hands. "I don't think the quiet life out in the boonies is right for someone like you."

"Why not? It's where I grew up."

"Really? she asks with mild interest. "In any case, it's not where you are now. And I think we need you here, whether you want to be or not." She smiles, and the expression is grim but not entirely unkind. "Do you know much about your family's history? Your birth family, I mean?"

"No, almost nothing."

"I thought so," she says with a little nod. "My family were cousins of your mother, Nui no Kata. She was the oldest granddaughter of the lord of Ishikawa. We were very close. Daigo inherited rulership of Kaga through her." She pauses. "You look so much like her," she says, resting her chin in her hand for a moment. "Except the eyes. Anyway, I came with my cousin to protect her from enemy factions. Kurakawa falls under the Asakura umbrella and was one of these, so you might wonder why Yamato works for us."

He nods, frowning. 

"Daigo took him as a hostage when he was younger," Oosuji says. "Him, his brother, and his little sister. The brother resisted and was killed, and the sister was married off to some border lord and died in a fire, so he is the only survivor of that branch of the clan. We were close to the same age when we met. He was good at tracking. I was assigned to watch him. You can...probably guess the rest. Everyone assumes it, anyway."

He nods again. "Why tell me this?"

"Because you're not the first person to ask me to make them disappear," Oosuji says. "I want you to know about me, at least this far, because I want you to understand why I resisted your presence so much at first. It was like seeing a vengeful ghost. I was terrified for Daigo's safety, and the heir's. I did not understand your motives." She kneels suddenly and bows with her forehead to the ground. "Forgive me."

"Whoa," Hyakkimaru says, "you, uh, that's not necessary, really..."

"It is. You have proven yourself a friend to the clan and worthy of your bloodline. I misjudged you gravely and nearly lost something I cherish because of it. Forgive me." 

"There's nothing to forgive," he says. "You were following orders. But fine. If it will make you stop kneeling...I forgive you."

She looks up at him with her face a scant inch from the ground. "Really?"

"Yes." He helps her stand up, and she nods brusquely.

"I've got some friends to talk to about a contingency," she says with a little smile. "Until then, I'd appreciate it if you remained with us. Oh, and if you ever need me for anything else, ask."

He nods, and she salutes crisply and leaves the tent.

Iwasa ducks inside just after she leaves and says, "Did I just see what I think I saw?"

"Huh?"

"Oosuji smiling. What did you say?"

"Nothing," he says. "She wanted forgiveness. So I gave it."

"You forgave her?" Iwasa tilts his head with a little frown. "Having someone like Oosuji in your debt has some advantages."

"She isn't Daigo," he says, as if that explains everything. For him, it does. He has always been able to forgive everyone except Daigo. He doesn't know how to forgive him, even though part of him wants to.

Other parts of him still insist that forgiving Daigo is impossible. It's hard to forgive the deliberate sacrificial murder of an infant, especially if it's your own child. No matter that Hyakkimaru had lived; intent matters.

"Hm," Iwasa says. Then he notices the sake that Oosuji brought. "Is that yours?" he asks. "Can I have some?"

"Sure," Hyakkimaru says. They sit down and drink. 

***

Dororo is burrowed under her futon cover and about to fall asleep after a long day of travel in the wagon when she gets an unexpected visit from Kagemitsu Daigo.

She's exhausted; it feels like the blood loss has seeped into her bones and made her permanently tired; but it's not like she can deny Daigo an audience. She tells Hiroko to show him in.

Daigo enters and kneels close to her, but not close enough so that she can see his face clearly. The wagon is silent for a moment; she hears the distant sound of crickets and the night breeze flapping at the canvas covering it. She waits for what feels like a long time, though it's probably only a minute or two, before she asks: "Daigo? What do you want?"

"I wanted to see how you are recovering," he says.

"I'll be fine," she says.

"So it seems," he says. "If you stop ripping your stitches out." He picks up something that's just outside her field of vision and places it in her hand. It's a waterskin, full. "Drink that, please."

She's going to have to pee like a racehorse before she goes to sleep, but she uncorks the stopper and complies. Between sips, she says, "Don't worry about me, please. I really will be fine."

"Every time you do something reckless, I have to talk to my son. I do not enjoy that."

"Sorry." She twists a little on her futon so that she can see him better. He does look perturbed; his lightning scar has ridges and lines from where his face has crumpled in with frowning. "Is that the only reason you're here? To check up on my health?"

"That is the main reason," he says, "but not the only one. I wanted to talk to you about your new omiai. We're arriving in Konzo tomorrow, and Takeshitsu Kaguya-san has set up some potential matches for you."

Dororo groans internally. "I--don't want to think about that right now."

"I understand," Daigo says, "but it's something we must think about. We need allies if we plan to retake Amagi in spring. It would help if you were married by then."

Dororo shifts her gaze to the ceiling. "If you say so," Dororo mutters.

"What?"

"I understand," Dororo says more clearly. "Omiai when we get to Konzo. Got it. Have the rules changed, or do you expect me to act the same way I did with Kurakawa Kouhei?"

"Konzo should provide a more lax atmosphere," Daigo says, "so minding your speech and manners should be sufficient. Some of your potential matches may see your military training as an asset, so appearances will be less important."

"Is that your backhanded way of saying I'm ugly?"

"No," Daigo says with a hint of exasperation in his tone, "I am saying, as directly as possible, that your past and life circumstances make you an undesirable bride."

"I agree," she says. "Maybe I shouldn't get married?"

"That bridge is crossed," Daigo says. "I wanted to tell you to prepare for omiai, and to give up on Hyakkimaru as a lost cause. I suspect Takeda will spirit him off to the mountains at the earliest opportunity, and I don't want your hopes to be dashed when that happens."

Hopes? "Who says I'm entertaining hopes?" She sits up to look at Daigo properly, offering him a glare that's one part disdain and two parts defiance. "Hyakkimaru doesn't want to marry me," she says, practically hisses, "and if he went off to the mountains or whatever, he'd _tell_ me first." She bites her tongue before she calls her foster father a bastard or worse, but it's a close thing.

Daigo smiles broadly at her. "It appears he didn't lie," Daigo says. "You are going to live after all." He breathes out a little sigh that sounds like relief.

"I told you I was fine," Dororo says as she plops down on her futon again with a huff. She drinks more water because it seems to help the exhaustion, and glares up at him.

"I can never believe your words, but I always believe your actions," he says. He pauses for a moment, then says, "I'm glad you're all right."

"Really? Why?"

"You're my daughter," he says, "and I need you." He stands, then walks over to her. He looks down and says, "Good night," then exists the tent before she can say anything.

Dororo breathes deeply when he leaves. Daigo's still an asshole who likes to rile her up. What else is new?  
  
_I need you_ is new.

Her fingers drift lightly over the stitches on her abdomen, protected by layers of cloth. With or without Daigo's concern, she's not dying anytime soon. 

The thought of more omiai makes her feel faintly sick to her stomach, though.

***

The wagon train arrives in Konzo late on the next day. Cold wind blows off the mountains to the west, and it feels like snow is in the air. Kaguya comes out with a host of Takeda servants in tow, and bundles off everyone to their rooms to huddle under kotatsus before dinner.

Dororo keeps track of Hyakkimaru in the press of people, and notices that Kaguya's placed him in the room across from hers. She's always liked Kaguya. It's possible that there's a special section of the house for guests and family and there's no other place for them to stay, but she's happy nonetheless. 

Hiroko stokes the fire under the kotatsu in her room for her, and they sit companionably in the heat as the outside light fades around them. "I only brought you one winter kimono," Hiroko says, shivering a little. "I hope we don't stay here long."

"I'm sure Kaguya could lend me a few things, if it comes to that."

Hiroko purses her lips. "You are not the same size. It would be...unbecoming. You have omiai to think of."

"Again?" So soon after the Kouhei debacle?

"Daigo-sama told me he consulted you on this," Hiroko says.

"He did. I'm just...still not sold on the idea. Why do I have to get married? You're not married."

"I was," Hiroko says. "Twice."

Dororo raises an eyebrow. "This I have to hear."

Hiroko lets out a little sigh. "I was born in the province and raised with Daigo's servants in the house," she says. "My mother was a midwife, but she...died, and my father was cut down while transporting supplies into Enuma. I barely knew them. The chambermaid made a match for me with a boy I knew, and he died of a fever a month later. Then I married a soldier, but Hyakkimaru killed him when he raided Daigo's palace."

Dororo winces. "I never knew that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Hiroko says. "These things happen in times of war. Sickness can strike at any time. Life is short. Marriage is supposed to bring stability and prosperity, but I tried twice and failed twice. I am perfectly happy serving as your seamstress."

 _And occasional ninja_ , Dororo thinks, remembering Hiroko's ties to the Daigo and Takeda spy networks. Hiroko bows her head a little.

"So...are you mad at Hyakkimaru for killing your second husband?" Dororo asks.

Hiroko thinks for a moment. "Not really. I did not know him well, and he was something of a brute."

Dororo's beginning to suspect that there are no happy marriages. She remembers her parents, then, and while their relationship certainly hadn't been perfect, they'd been happy, the three of them. Of course, her parents had also had the luxury of choosing one another.

"I'm sorry," Dororo says with a little frown.

"Please stop apologizing to me. There is no need, and you're making me uncomfortable."

Dororo bites back another apology and asks, "When is dinner? I'm starving."

Hiroko looks at the quality of the light coming through the rice paper window and closes the bamboo shutters, letting the dim light from under the kotatsu wrap them in the half-darkness. "Soon, I think."

Seconds later, there is a tap at the sliding door.

***

Dinner is a frenetic mess.

Kaguya has opened up the lowest floor completely and lined it with low tables and cushions so that everyone in Daigo's wagon train can sit and eat comfortably. Daigo's family and household gets the highest place, of course, with the vassals and retainers directly next to it. Utensils are mismatched and it's not always clear what belongs to who; the soldiers in the lower third of the room break into random song at odd intervals, and smoke and steam from cooking fires fill the air.

Hyakkimaru coughs. Iwasa brings him an extra plate, even though he'd insisted he didn't need more, and takes a seat next to him. Akiko and Tarou are placed in the lower third of the room with the soldiers; Akiko appears to be fleecing them for everything they've got in a game of shogi, while Tarou quietly pockets her earnings.

"Maybe you shouldn't have taught Akiko to gamble," Hyakkimaru says.

"Why not? She's doing fine."

"The soldiers don't look too happy."

Iwasa snorts. "Like they'd try anything, with you here."

Hyakkimaru blinks at the realization that his protectiveness is being used to shield Akiko's gambling habit.

Kaguya approaches then and sits on an empty cushion across from Iwasa, a sheaf of papers in her hands. "Kaguya-san," Hyakkimaru says with a little nod.

"Hyakkimaru," she says with a bright smile. "I missed you."

"What about me?" Iwasa grumbles.

"You won't give me any money," Kaguya says patiently. 

"I have no money," Iwasa says.

"Like I said," Kaguya says.

Hyakkimaru sighs. "What do you need it for this time?"

"The war, of course," Kaguya says. "Our supply roads were damaged by the rain, then the Asakura soldiers. Our defenses prevented the wall from being breached, but it's expensive to feed an army all winter."

Hyakkimaru nods. "I don't have much now, but..." He glances over at Tarou. "I can get more."

Kaguya nods. "Thank you. Also, I was reading over this contract, and if you're going to find a proper match you'll need to start omiai right away." Her eyes flick from Hyakkimaru to Iwasa. "Both of you."

Iwasa drinks down his sake cup in one gulp. Hyakkimaru listens as she explains the matches she's been arranging, as well as logistical details: names, dates, times, locations. 

Hyakkimaru is relieved that he won't have to start arranging these things until after he arrives in Enuma; Kaguya had written letters to families, but no meetings are set in stone yet. Iwasa is less lucky; his first match is in Konzo, and he'll be meeting her next week.

"Her name is Uehashi Kayo," Kaguya says, "five years younger than you, of good parentage. Marrying her would make us cousins by marriage," Kaguya says.

Iwasa stares at her and looks miserable. 

She finishes her explanation, then gets up and returns to Daigo and his household. Hyakkimaru catches Dororo's eye; she waves, but he doesn't wave back. "She's going to rip her stitches again."

"Probably, yeah." Iwasa bumps his shoulder. "I guess this is it, then. The moment of truth."

"Huh?" 

"Your first match is in Enuma," he says. "If you're going to run, you'll have to do it before you get there."

In his relief at having marriage meetings postponed for a few more days, Hyakkimaru had completely lost sight of the fact that he'd have to go to Enuma. Again. Daigo keeps pulling him deeper in, though he hardly understands why.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm...still not sure."

"Neither am I," Iwasa says. "But I have to do something. Before it's too late." His eyes follow Kaguya as she kneels in front of Daigo and Hitomi to pour sake.

Hyakkimaru gets up, crosses the room and asks Tarou for Akiko's ill-gotten gains. Tarou hands them over reluctantly, and Hyakkimaru says, "It's for a good cause. I promise."

Tarou nods, though he's frowning a little. "Can we keep whatever else she wins tonight?" 

"Sure."

"Thanks!" Tarou smiles, then inches his cushion closer to Akiko. She's deeply immersed in the game; it must be her turn because no one else is moving.

Hyakkimaru returns to his table and deposits the pouch containing Akiko's substantial winnings into Iwasa's lap. 

"Huh?" Iwasa asks as he picks up the pouch.

"Were you listening to anything Kaguya said?" he asks.

Iwasa looks puzzled for a moment, then nods in slow understanding.

"You have a time limit, too," Hyakkimaru says as he sits back down. "I believe in you."

"You do?"

"Well, most of the time."

***

Hyakkimaru returns to his room after dinner, mentally counting the days between here and Enuma and now and his omiai meeting. Outside his room, he allows himself a moment of quiet panic as he talks himself through schedules and timelines and expectations, and whether or not it would be best to run after all.

He slides his door open and finds Biwamaru sitting under his kotatsu, warming his hands on a wide bowl of sake. Akiko and Tarou are there as well, and he's glad to see them all. Dinner had been too noisy and crowded for him to get a chance to talk to them much.

"We heard you joined another clan," Akiko says. "Iwasa's. Why?"

He shrugs. "Do you have some kind of strong attachment to the Daigo clan that I should know about?"

"No," Akiko says, bumping Tarou in the shoulder as she reaches for more sake, "it's just...having Iwasa as actual family is a little...weird. I don't know why, but I liked us better unaffiliated."

"Me too," Tarou adds. "I don't want to be a Daigo or a Takeda. I just want to be me."

Hyakkimaru nods in understanding. "Iwasa didn't adopt you two, so you can stay unaffiliated if it makes you happy."

"I will and it does," Akiko says. "Come be unaffiliated with us again. Please?"

"Iwasa would have to let me off the hook," he says.

"Not bloody likely," Akiko says.

"Yeah."

He asks them what happened to them during the battle at Amagi. As usual, Akiko does most of the talking, but Tarou chimes in when he wants to add a detail; for instance, it had been his idea to set up poisoned spikes in trenches surrounding Daigo's tent to choke off entry points, and to deploy archers as the first line of defense outside the tent.

"Smart," Hyakkimaru says. "What did you do, Akiko?"

"Most of the actual fighting," she says, kicking Tarou under the table. "I also made the poisoned spikes ahead of time, for something else, so."

A pause. Hyakkimaru smiles at them and says, "You did well. I'm proud of you."

They smile back, faces a bit flushed from rice wine, and Tarou's eyes look droopy.

"You should probably get some sleep," Hyakkimaru says. "You look tired."

"Do not," Akiko insists. "Also, did you steal my money?"

"You stole it first, and it's for a good cause."

She pouts. "What cause?"

"Keeping our soldiers fed this winter."

"Really?" she asks.

"Really."

"That's all right, then." She yawns and stretches her arms in an extravagant motion that reminds him, briefly, of Dororo. She nudges Tarou, and the two of them get up and bow. Akiko opens the door, and Tarou closes it, leaving Biwamaru and Hyakkimaru alone in his room.

"You didn't talk much during all that," Hyakkimaru says as he sits next to him again.

"Akiko-san likes to talk more than I do," he says with a wry smile.

"I'm glad you're all right," Hyakkimaru says as he pours Biwamaru another cup of sake. "I worried about you in the battle, too."

"No need to worry about me, young man," he says. "I am always more worried about you." 

"Me?"

"Mhm." Biwamaru regards him with an expression that is more uncomfortable than a measured stare, and Hyakkimaru remembers what it feels like to be able to look at someone and see the essence of what they are. He misses that capability, sometimes.

After a while, Biwamaru says, "The curse of your birth is no longer on you. Killing the last demon broke that curse."

Biwamaru can see that. Hyakkimaru lets out a long breath, relieved to get that kind of confirmation. The demons are dead. They're not coming back.

"But," Biwamaru says, "the...aftereffects are still with you."

The bottom falls out of Hyakkimaru's stomach. "Aftereffects?"

"The pieces of your body were consumed by demons for--well, over a decade and a half, with the exception of your left leg." He looks down at the limb and points at it thoughtfully. "It's lighter, in terms of aura. That's how I can tell. Do you--understand, exactly what the demons did to you?"

"No."

"I see." A pause. "I can tell you what little I understand. If Daigo's deal with the demons had been entirely successful, your head and heart would have been taken. You--your identity, your selfhood--would have actually died, and your body would have become an immortal demonic vessel, used to house powerful spirits or youkai."

"Why? What would they want with my body?"

"The same thing they want with every body they took before yours," Biwmaru says. "They would have used it to eat. Feed. Kill. Power needs sustenance. Even demons must eat. However, they failed to take your mind. Or your heart. The pieces of your body continued to live and grow apart from you, a servant of two masters--the demons, and their rightful owner. To keep their hold on your body, the demons used powerful magic. You saw it as the deep red aura that came off of true demons, yes?"

Hyakkimaru nods. Biwamaru knows what the red aura actually was?

"This magic bound the pieces of your body to the demons. It nourished those pieces, the way an animal gives milk to its young. It...seeped into your body. Demonic magic."

Hyakkimaru swallows. "And what does that mean?"

"It means that, to some extent, your reflexes, your recovery speed, your strength, and your general health are all in large part thanks to demonic magic," Biwamaru says. "The demons are dead, don't worry--but that nourishment from them is still in you. It might always be."

Hyakkimaru suddenly feels sick to his stomach. The edges of his spear wound throb irritably, like his heart is beating too fast, working too hard. "This is what you meant when I collapsed near Amagi, then. When you told me I looked or felt like a demon." He swallows. "Could I--become a demon? Because of this?"

Biwamaru frowns. "The only time I saw you close to that extreme was when you were nearly dead of shock and poison," he says. "If you become a demon--if--it won't be you. It'll be whatever the demons originally would have turned you into, lacking a mind."

"That's--" Not helpful. Not helpful at all. "Is...is there any way to not become a demon? What if I die of old age, or in my sleep, or something?" Give up rage and fighting forever, and become a sage?

Biwamaru shakes his head sadly. "Even if you could, I would not advise that path, not for you. You would need to be fully human, and to become simply that, you would lose many advantages. I know of no way to extract the demonic nourishment from you that would not kill you at this stage." He puts his chin in his hand. "And unfortunately, you can't become a priest in any Buddhist or Shinto temple that I know of. Any priest who looks at you will assume that you are possessed. In a way, you are."

So there's no way to get back to the person he was born as. The demons had changed and corrupted him too much, without his knowledge or consent, and there's no way to undo it. 

This is why he can't forgive Daigo. Just when he thinks Daigo's done taking things from him, he discovers something new and horrible.

"Can you..." He looks at the floor. "Can you look for a way, anyway? To turn me completely human again?"

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Biwamaru asks. "You won't be as effective as a fighter. Wounds will hurt you more, and take longer to heal. You won't be able to protect the people or things you care about as well, either."

"But I won't turn into a demon," he says, "and I think that's a fair trade." He has no problems returning to who he was meant to be, even if it does make him weaker. All of his body parts had been weaker and harder to manage than his prosthetic pieces, when he'd first gotten them back.

Biwamaru hmphs. "Very well. I can ask some old acquaintances of mine." He gets to his feet. "You are not evil, Hyakkimaru. I would see it if you were. Take some comfort in that."

"And if I did...look evil?"

The old monk shrugs. "I would kill you."

Biwamaru claps him on the shoulder and withdraws.

Hyakkimaru realizes that he hadn't even taken a sip of sake.

***

Much later, Hyakkimaru is startled awake by the sound of his door sliding open. He sits up, drawing both swords in under five seconds and faces the threat, but it's just Dororo. 

She puts her hands up in a defensive pose, and he lowers his swords. "I thought I asked you not to walk around," he says.

"You did," she says. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep."

"First, sit down," he says, and she sits seiza at the bottom of his futon. He sits across from her, and asks, "What's wrong?"

"I go for omiai tomorrow already," she says kicking her legs out from under her like a dissatisfied infant. "I don't wanna. Can you tell Daigo I'm sick?" She sprawls out on her back, half-on and half-off the futon.

"He's your father, not mine."

"One, not technically true, and two, you're older than me--doesn't that mean you're supposed to protect me and take care of me and all that?" She lets out a long breath that sounds a little painful.

"Did you...maybe...rip your stitches again?" Hyakkimaru asks, because he needs to take care of it if she has.

"No," she says quickly, "I didn't. I promise." She sits up, back into seiza. "But if I did, would that get me out of it?"

He sighs. "You're not sick," Hyakkimaru says, "and you're not a child," but he puts out his arm straight as an invitation for a hug, and Dororo accepts it, clinging tight with both hands and tucking her chin behind his shoulder.

"I'm scared," she says without looking at him.

Hyakkimaru maintains the hug. One of his hands moves to the base of her spine and starts rubbing soothing circles, like he used to do when she had nightmares. "Understandable. Your last fiance tried to assassinate you."

"Yeah," she chuckles. "There's that. I'm also terrified that someone's going to walk in and--and--misconstrue this and take you away forever."

Hyakkimaru stills his hand on her spine, thinking. "I thought you were okay, letting me go."

"I am," she says. "I just don't want you dragged away from me." She adjusts her grip on his clothes and takes a deep breath in. "I missed this. I can't hug Daigo. It would feel too weird."

"I know what you mean."

"Yeah." She pulls her head up from behind his shoulder and looks at him. "Just--tell me one thing."

"Sure."

"Are you--going to get married? Instead of running away?"

"I still haven't decided."

She leans back, letting him go. "When you do, will you tell me?"

"Of course." He's made the mistake of not saying goodbye before. He doesn't intend to make it again.

"Thanks." She rolls over onto her back on the futon and frowns. "How mad would Daigo be if I slept here?" She closes her eyes.

He considers a moment. "Not mad enough to sell your body to demons, but possibly angry enough to get Iwasa to send me somewhere for awhile to punish you."

"Shit, you're probably right," she says as she sits up again. She folds her knees up to her chin and stands up. "See you in the morning?" she asks.

"I'll be here." 

She smiles, then opens the rice paper door of his room and kneels outside it. She's about to close it when she says, "Remember you promised. To tell me this time. When you go."

She slides the door shut.

"Good luck tomorrow," he says.

 _And don't rip your stitches_ , he mentally adds.


	17. Omiai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You...have children?" Hitomi asks softly.
> 
> "Akiko and Tarou aren't related to me, but they're my family, and Iwasa's," he says. 
> 
> "I see." Hitomi glances at him over the table. "Iwasa-san must be a very good friend to you."
> 
> "He is."
> 
> "Is that why you help Daigo-sama, then?" she asks with a little frown. "To help him?"
> 
> "One of the reasons," he says as he scans the pages in front of him. The names of Dororo's matches are Suzuki Satoru, thirty-six, previously married twice; Takaba Riku, eight years old, pampered and obese; and Itou Inoue, just nineteen, never married, reportedly has a violent temper. He immediately hates all three, but suspects that Takaba Riku is who he says he is, at any rate. It's hard to fake being eight years old and overweight.
> 
> "The main reason?" Hitomi asks.
> 
> He glances up from the papers. "Why does it matter?"
> 
> "You saved my life, several times. You have saved Daigo's life, and his heir's, even though you have every reason to hate him," she says. "He does not treat you well. I would like to know why you help him."
> 
> "Because he's got a parasitic death grip on Dororo," he says, "and he'll probably do something to get her killed as soon as I'm not looking."

Hyakkimaru is not able to sleep after Dororo leaves. He stares at the old familiar ceiling in his old familiar room and worries about Dororo, worries about himself, worries that the quest he thought he'd completed at sixteen is not quite over yet.

He sits up and hunches his shoulders in, feeling his own breath against his chest as he drops his head. He has too many problems to think about. His most pressing choice is whether or not to stay or flee Daigo's wagon train before he gets to Enuma, but he's already shuffled that choice to the back of his mind; there's no way he's leaving until Dororo is well, and he suspects he can drag out the marriage meeting process without actually marrying anyone for quite some time.

His next problem is how to make Dororo well without provoking constant contact from Daigo and his new Takeda family. He suspects that the expectation is that he'll have to interact with them a lot more from now on. With Iwasa panicking over what to do about his own marriage, Hyakkimaru won't be able to lean on him for a while. He lifts his head a little, shakes it when he realizes that Iwasa might actually need his help for once. He decides to ask Akiko and Tarou to run interference for him with Daigo and the rest of the Takeda clan; they're good at drawing attention away from him when they want to. 

His final urgent problem is to find some way to not transform into a demon when he dies. His life is often in danger, and the risk is too high if he remains as he is. He could kill people, a lot of them. People who are important to him. He needs to find a way back to the person he was born as. Biwamaru might have some information. Mizuha probably has more.

He settles into seiza, then kowtows low over his futon and whispers, "Mizuha. I need to talk to you."

The fire in his kotatsu flickers, and Mizuha appears in front of him, sprinkling ash. "Sounds like an emergency," she says. "Are you all right, demon slayer?"

"It...kind of is an emergency, but not really. But..." He looks up at her. "A monk told me that I might transform into a demon, if I die."

Mizuha frowns. "That is not quite true. Your body can be easily taken over by demons without a mind to govern it. Is that the problem you are speaking of?"

Mizuha did know about this. "Yes."

"So you want to be human," she says. "Interesting."

"Is it possible?"

"Yes," she says, "but it's difficult. Are you sure?"

He nods. "What do I need to do?"

"You would need to go to the realm of youkai and spirits, and find the demon that originally cursed you. That would be Obaryon; you've met before. You would either have to convince him to lift the curse, or kill him." Mizuha nods.

"I--already killed him," he says. "How would this be different?"

"Right now--or six years ago--is too late," she says. "You would need him to lift the curse before you were born. He would have to un-curse you, essentially."

He gapes at her. "Is that even possible?"

"Of course. Demons live for a very long time in this realm, and as far as I know we're immortal in the youkai realm, unless we're killed by another demon. I have no idea how old I am. Time is fluid--for some of us, anyway."

"I thought you said there was a way for me to kill him in the youkai realm," he mutters.

"There is," she says. "I blessed the sword Jukai put in your left arm, long ago. It can kill all lesser demons. And in the youkai realm, as it does here, it becomes stronger as it kills more demons. It may be easier to convince Obaryon, but killing him is also an option."

He sucks in a deep breath. "So if I do this--"

"--the demons would never get your body in the first place," she says with a nod. "You would be born human, as Kagemitsu Daigo's son. You would have no need to go on a quest to kill the Hall of Hell demons to restore your body. You would never be used as a demonic vessel." She looks around the room. "Your current life would change drastically, of course."

He'd probably never meet Iwasa. Or Akiko and Tarou. Or Biwamaru.

Or Dororo. 

"Is there," he asks, "a way for me to restore my humanity while keeping my current life?"

"Not that I know of," Mizuha says. "A curse is a powerful thing, and demonic magic takes time to fade. For you, it will take centuries. I am sorry."

His eyes snap open. "Will I--live for centuries?"

"If you are not killed, it is possible."

He gulps, and decides to file that information away in his ever-growing list of problems. "Is there a way to see...to see what my life would be like? If I were just human. If I...changed things?"

Mizuha considers for a moment. The flames under his kotatsu spark and sputter as she crouches down next to him and touches his arm. "Maybe," she says. "I would have to arrange a few things, but I can show you what your life would have been like if you had been born human. It is something I was able to see, when I first decided to save you." She looks him in the eye. "Give me some time," she says, "and I'll show you."

"Where?"

"Return to Enuma and pray with me, as you promised," she says.

And then she vanishes.

He lies back on his futon, stunned. Mizuha certainly had known more than Biwamaru...but he's not sure he wants to throw out everything he is, again, to fix yet another problem Daigo caused. He closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep.

There's a gentle tap on his door, and it opens, revealing Oosuji. She kneels in the threshold and beckons him outside, and he follows her, puzzled and exhausted. She leads him down the hall and whispers, "Daigo's summoned you. It's urgent."

"Must be," he says with a yawn. "What does he want?"

"He suspects someone has come to kill Dororo-sama," Oosuji says.

"Oh." He blinks. "Is she in danger now?"

"No," Oosuji says quickly. "She is guarded. But Daigo desires to speak with you. Follow me, Hyakkimaru-san."

He walks after her in a daze. His limbs feel heavy and his mind is spinning in several directions at once, but he knows there is no possible way that he could sleep right now, so he decides to listen to what Daigo has to say. 

Daigo is in the largest guest room down the hall, sharing with Hitomi. When he enters the room with Oosuji, the two of them are perched on high cushions surrounding a lit kotatsu; some papers are lined up on the floor surrounding them. 

Oosuji bows as she enters, but Hyakkimaru doesn't bother. "Daigo-sama," Oosuji says.

"Hyakkimaru," Daigo says. "Sorry to wake you."

"I was awake."

"Has Oosuji filled you in on the situation?"

"Yes, but not the specifics."

"Good. That will make this faster." He motions for Oosuji to sit, and she kneels in a corner. Hyakkimaru remains standing.

"Dororo has omiai meetings this week," Daigo says. "There are three candidates." He shuffles through some of the papers and hands Hyakkimaru a large and dog-eared sheaf that looks like it's passed through many hands. "Brief Dororo on each, and stand guard over the meetings from a safe distance."

Hyakkimaru starts scanning the documents with a critical eye--one candidate is almost ten years her junior; another, twenty years her senior--then pauses to look up at Daigo. "You want me to watch for assassins at these meetings," he says. "Why?"

"I suspect at least one of these men is not who they claim to be," he says.

"One of them is the assassin?"

"Likely," Daigo says. "And Dororo is not in fighting condition. Can I depend on you?"

Like he'd do anything else. He nods stiffly.

"Good," he says. "Get started immediately. I will blame you if she dies." He waves his hand in a dismissal.

"Good talk," Hyakkimaru says, then spins on his heel and goes to the kitchen where he can read by the light of the fires. Before he can deal with any of his other problems, he has work to do.

Hitomi follows him outside and says as he walks, "I am sorry, Hyakkimaru-san. I have asked you Daigo-sama to treat you with more kindness, but..."

He stops, turns, and looks at her. "Wait. Do you not know why Daigo hates me?"

"I assumed you were a natural son and a threat to his legitimate heirs," she says demurely with her eyes cast down.

Hyakkimaru bites his tongue to keep from laughing. "I have to read these," he says, indicating the stack of papers Daigo had given him. "I'm going to the kitchen. Follow me and I'll explain."

She does follow him, and he opens the door to the kitchen for her. Some Takeda retainers run back and forth lighting fires and preparing pots to cook rice and oats for breakfast, but the large table at the center of the room is empty. Hyakkimaru takes a seat and says, "I am Kagemitsu Daigo's legitimate son," he says. "Nui no Kata was my mother."

Hitomi gasps.

"But I'm not his heir," he says. "He sold my body to twelve demons the day I was born, and a doctor found me, protected me, and created an artificial body for me until I could move and fight on my own. I killed all the demons Daigo sold me to, regained my body, and now I'm here." He glances between her and the papers on the table. "That's the short version, but I think it should clear a few things up."

"Why would you...why did Daigo..."

"Sell me?" he says as he spreads the papers out on the table, taking a good look at the sketch portraits of the three candidates. "For power. Kaga was in some kind of drought at the time. There were wars going on. He wanted an advantage, so he sold me."

Hitomi nods shallowly. "Why would you ever help Daigo-sama, then?"

He is about to answer when the door opens, revealing a very flustered Takeshitsu Kaguya carrying her own stack of papers and a charcoal stick. She takes a seat next to Hitomi and glares at Hyakkimaru. "You're in my seat."

"I was here first."

"True," she says. "I hate contracts. Everyone's trying to screw me over."

"Not me," he says. "Not Iwasa, either." He frowns. "Akiko might, but it would be a joke."

"You are not cute," she says, kicking him under the table. He makes no effort to avoid the blow; he is concentrating too hard on his own reading.

"You...must know each other well," Hitomi ventures.

"He patched me up seven years ago when I almost died from severe burns," Kaguya says.

"She asks me for money all the time," Hyakkimaru says.

"I wouldn't if you weren't such a bleeding heart," Kaguya says as she signs one of her contracts.

"It's true," Hitomi says. "I am beginning to see that Hyakkimaru-san is an unusually kind person."

"That's why I want him to marry me," Kaguya says with a little shrug.

That makes Hyakkimaru look up, and give Kaguya his undivided attention. "I like you, Kaguya," he says. "Really, I do. You run Konzo well, and you've been kind to me and my kids. I respect that." He nods. "But I won't marry you."

"Why not?" she asks.

"Because Iwasa loves you," Hyakkimaru says.

"I know," she says, a little sadly.

"Can't you give him a shot?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"Why? Because you say so?"

"No," he says, "because we're friends. I think if we all want to stay friends, the three of us, and keep supporting Konzo as we have, then marrying Iwasa is a good idea." A pause. "He'd also be over the moon about it."

"Perhaps." She gives him a soft smile. "You...really care about making others happy. You should turn your eyes on yourself." She gathers up her stack of papers and stands, then slides the door to the kitchen open and leaves.

"You...have children?" Hitomi asks softly.

"Akiko and Tarou aren't related to me, but they're my family, and Iwasa's," he says. 

"I see." Hitomi glances at him over the table. "Iwasa-san must be a very good friend to you."

"He is."

"Is that why you help Daigo-sama, then?" she asks with a little frown. "To help him?"

"One of the reasons," he says as he scans the pages in front of him. The names of Dororo's matches are Suzuki Satoru, thirty-six, previously married twice; Takaba Riku, eight years old, pampered and obese; and Itou Inoue, just nineteen, never married, reportedly has a violent temper. He immediately hates all three, but suspects that Takaba Riku is who he says he is, at any rate. It's hard to fake being eight years old and overweight.

"The main reason?" Hitomi asks.

He glances up from the papers. "Why does it matter?"

"You saved my life, several times. You have saved Daigo's life, and his heir's, even though you have every reason to hate him," she says. "He does not treat you well. I would like to know why you help him."

"Because he's got a parasitic death grip on Dororo," he says, "and he'll probably do something to get her killed as soon as I'm not looking."

"Ah," Hitomi says. "You love Dororo, then. That makes sense."

He sighs, and it's exasperated. "Don't try to make it that simple. We grew up together. She fought the demons with me. I hate that Daigo keeps her so close and uses her so much, but I can't let her die. I owe her that much."

Hitomi gives him another nod. "Some things are more simple than you give them credit for, Hyakkimaru-san."

"I'm sorry, Hitomi-san, but I'm busy," he says, almost snaps. "Unless you have something new to tell me about the potential assassin, leave me alone for a while."

"As you wish," she says, bowing a little as she excuses herself.

Cooking smells make his nose twitch. After he completes his preliminary analysis of Dororo's matches, he prepares a breakfast tray and heads to Dororo's room. Daigo told him to brief her, and he intends to. He's not going to let her out of his sight today.

***

When Dororo wakes up that morning, her eyelids are heavy and the back of her throat feels rough as sandpaper. She sits up too fast and immediately feels her skin stretch over her stitches, but none of them pop open. She breathes, and settles herself into a kneeling position slowly.

The sun isn't quite up, but she can hear faint sounds from the kitchen below. Her door slides open almost silently, revealing Hyakkimaru carrying a steaming tray.

"You're awake," Hyakkimaru says. "Good. You should eat."

The breakfast is cold onigiri and hot soup. She asks, "How did you sneak this past Daigo? Won't he be mad at you for coming to see me alone?"

"It was his idea," he says as he arranges the breakfast tray. "I think he wants you in a decent mood for your marriage meeting."

"Manipulative bastard."

"You say that like you're surprised."

"I am," she says as she sips her soup. Daigo has been unusually kind to her lately. This isn't the first time she's wondered about the cause. The memory of him saying 'I need you' floats into her head unbidden, and once it's there she keeps hearing it, like it's on a loop. 

"Say, Hyakki."

"Yeah?"

"Daigo...told me he needed me."

Hyakkimaru snorts. "Must be nice," he says sarcastically.

There's more bitterness in that sentence than he lets on, and Dororo reflects that he might not be the best person to talk this over with. "No, I...I don't really understand it, is all."

"You're the only heir he's got," Hyakkimaru says with a shrug. "Maybe he wants you to remember him fondly when you join your marriage households together. There's probably something in it for him. I wouldn't spend a lot of energy trying to understand it."

He's probably right. But Hyakkimaru is Daigo's only heir by blood. Him being here based on Daigo's order can't be coincidental, either. "I think...he needs you, too."

"Oosuji said something like that," Hyakkimaru says. He nudges her bowl on the tray to remind her to eat the rest of her food. "I think it just means that I'm useful."

She picks up her bowl and slurps. The soup is a little too salty. She pauses in slurping the broth to say, "You are." Another slurp. "And I love you."

It slips out without thinking.

His shoulders lock, and he drops his head, hiding his face. "Finish your soup," he says.

She does, and he picks up the tray and slides her door open. He turns to leave, and she says, "Wait."

He doesn't turn around, but he doesn't leave, either.

"I meant that," she says.

"I know."

"So..."

A silence, seeming longer than it is because he doesn't look at her.

"I'm sorry," he says, and opens the door.

Dororo frowns after him, but she isn't given time to think that answer through. Hiroko enters the room just as the door opens, and Hyakkimaru hastily steps out and closes it behind him.

Hiroko looks between Dororo and the door and tilts her head. "What did you say?"

"I...shouldn't tell you."

Hiroko's expression of puzzlement changes to a small smile. "I thought you'd shot him," Hiroko says. "That's why I rushed over. He wasn't expecting whatever you said."

"It kind of...slipped out."

"Confessions have a habit of doing that." Hiroko helps her to her feet. "I need to get you dressed and ready, and then Hyakkimaru is supposed to tell you about your match today."

The bottom falls out of Dororo's stomach. "Why?"

"Daigo-sama suspects that he may be an assassin."

***

Hitomi returns to Daigo's suite after talking to Hyakkimaru, puzzled and a bit saddened by the revelations that Hyakkimaru had revealed to her. She has always known him to be a disposable member of his family--that is why he'd been sent to retrieve her, and not another--but she had not been aware of how ostracized he'd truly been. 

No wonder they'd gotten along from the first. Her family had also only ever wanted to be rid of her.

She bows as she enters the main room and kneels next to Daigo again. He nods at her in acknowledgement and holds up a piece of paper close to a rice paper lamp on a low table, and she sees something written in a strange cipher.

"My lord, what is that?" she asks.

"Oosuji, show her," Daigo says without looking up.

Oosuji rises and presents a beautiful fan made of rich dark feathers clasped together with an ornate gold pin. "I intercepted this from a Korean spy. Letters are written backwards on the feathers," she says.

Hitomi's eyes widen. The feathers are black, and so is ink. "How can you tell?"

"I steamed the feathers and transferred the letters to paper," she says. "In this province, that was the standard practice for sending secret messages some ten years ago, too, but we've improved our ciphers and our methods since then." She sounds a trifle smug as she reveals this information. 

"Well...what did the message say?"

"I've only been able to decipher the first part of the message, Hitomi-sama," Oosuji says. "Because of it, we know an assassin is here. The second part of the message is directed to another party, who may be an accomplice, or perhaps the owner of the contract--certainly, it seems like the assassin is supposed to report to someone after their target is dead. We also know they want a prisoner."

A prisoner? "Who?"

"Dororo-sama is the target of assassination," Oosuji says, "and the prisoner is unnamed, but...the message asks for Daigo's heir."

"Which is impossible if Dororo is dead," Hitomi says.

"It's Hyakkimaru they want," Daigo says. 

"How can you be sure?" Hitomi asks.

"Because of the cipher," Daigo says. "I recognize it. The old priest from the Hall of Hell used the same one to send messages to my brother in our last war with Asakura."

Oosuji nods a little as if she is remembering, and frowns.

"What does that mean? What is the Hall of Hell?" Hitomi asks.

"Hyakkimaru told you about his past with demons," Daigo says. She nods, and he continues, "The Hall of Hell is where they used to live. If the old monk's order is still around, I imagine this contract is meant to appease their province's demons and youkai."

"Who...who would make such a contract?" Hitomi has never seen a demon. She's heard reports from Dororo and Daigo that demons had shown up as allies during the battle after their wedding, but she's never seen one with her own eyes. Even if she accepts that they exist, relying on demons for help seems like a foolish and dangerous proposition.

"Someone desperate," Daigo says. "Like I was."

Hitomi sighs. "I understand why the Asakura clan would want Dororo dead," she says, "but why would Hyakkimaru be a target?"

"We need to decipher the rest of the message," Daigo says.

"Yes," Hitomi says. She thinks a moment. "Your physician originally comes from Enuma, does he not? He may know the dialect you are trying to decipher."

"That's a good idea," he says, "but it will take at least week to reach him by messenger, and that's just one-way."

"You could also have Hyakkimaru try to read it," she suggests.

Daigo nods. "If we can't figure it out by the evening, perhaps I will ask him."

"Why not now?" she asks. This whole situation is too precarious for her liking. The more information they have, the better, from her perspective.

"He is guarding Dororo today," he says. "That kills two birds with one stone."

 _And puts both targets in the same place_ , Hitomi thinks but does not say. To Oosuji, she says, "May I see the encrypted message? I have some experience with ciphers, myself."

"Of course, Hitomi-sama." Oosuji presents her a scroll full of messy writing, and Hitomi begins transcribing. Daigo looks over her shoulder at odd intervals when he thinks she isn't looking, and she stifles a smile.

***

Hiroko dresses Dororo with painstaking care so that none of her stitches will rub against her clothes, and leads her to a small alcove off the kitchen. Hyakkimaru is waiting inside, sitting in front of a low table. He doesn't look at her.

"Suzuki Satoru is the first one you're meeting," he says without looking up. "He's thirty-six, married twice, and may have had some part in the death of his second wife."

"Sounds peachy," she says. Daigo had ordered Hyakkimaru to brief her on a threat. He wouldn't be here otherwise. Irritation rises in her gut and makes her stitches itch. "Why do I care?"

"He and your third match, Itou Inoue, are the most likely to be assassins," he says. "Your second match is only eight years old." He taps a sheet of paper in front of him, and Dororo picks it up.

"Hm, so he is," she says with vague disinterest. The general acceptance that she might have to get married to someone almost ten years her junior irritates her, too. "Though I'd already killed someone by the time I was eight."

"Me too," Hyakkimaru says. "I'm not removing him from suspicion; he just seems like the least likely candidate. Any one of them could try poison. Only eat and drink what they eat and drink first. Say as little as possible; they'll probably try to get your guard down with conversation, so you need to stay sharp. Speaking of which." He produces a short, thin knife from his sleeve and hands it to her. "Keep this on you. Hidden."

She nods despondently and takes the knife. "We're not going to talk about before, are we," she says. It's not a question.

"Your life is in danger," he says. "Let's get you safely through that, first. Then we'll talk about it."

"Really?"

"I promise."

"Fine," she says. "You say this first guy's twenty years older than me?"

"Yes," he says, "and he's a good candidate to be the assassin, but not the best one. I've looked at physical descriptions and pictures of him, and shadowed him this morning. If he's an impostor, he's a very good one."

"And the Itou guy?"

"I haven't been able to find him to take a look yet," he says.

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"Me, neither," he says. "If you want my advice..." He pauses. "You don't. But I'm giving it anyway."

She glares at him.

"Dismiss them as soon as they do or say something unforgivable," he says. "Insist the marriage is impossible, and send them on their way. It'll make it easier for us to track threats to you, and their movements, if there are fewer of them here."

She hms. "Makes sense, I guess. How long do I have to do this?"

"You meet with Suzuki first," he says, "and Itou last. One week from now."

A week. She lets out a deep breath, then touches the hilt of the knife concealed in her sleeve. "Then let's go."

***

Hyakkimaru hadn't given her a physical description of Suzuki Satoru, but he had spied on him, so he probably knows what he looks like and just hadn't told her. Perhaps he'd wished to spare her the disappointment for as long as possible.

Suzuki Satoru is old. As old as Daigo, or maybe older, and wire-thin with arms that remind her of rope; the expression he gives her when she enters his guest chambers makes her feel like he's entirely capable of strangling her to death.

She bows a little and introduces herself, then sits down warily across from him. The weight of her knife is reassuring. As she adjusts her posture to sit for a long time, the rice-paper door opens, and a servant she doesn't recognize brings in prawns and fresh crab as well as steamed rice and dried fish, sauces and sake.

Suzuki Satoru's eyes light up at the food, and so do Dororo's, but she can't eat anything unless he eats it first. 

Without so much as a word to her, Suzuki begins shelling and peeling the prawns so that they--or more likely, he--can eat them; Dororo doesn't care much for prawns. Her fingers twitch to help, to get this over with faster, but that kind of behavior isn't expected of her in this situation and could come off as rude, so she sits still and tries not to fidget.

"Would you care for rice, Suzuki-sama?" she asks.

He grunts, but does not say yes or no. Dororo places the fingertips of one hand against the fingertips of the other, lightly, and applies pressure along the lines of all her fingers, trying to distract herself without moving.

Suzuki finishes shelling and husking the prawns, then nods at her with a self-satisfied smile. She watches in something like fascination as he pops the prawns, one by one, into a yellowish mouth of half-rotted teeth. Every once in a while, he closes his eyes and looks up as if he's meditating or dreaming.

"Uh..." Dororo ventures, but he grunts again, and something in it communicates that she should be quiet, so she shuts her mouth. Clearly, he enjoys prawns. 

After he finishes all the fish, he rises; common courtesy for an elder means that Dororo has to rise, too. After he gets to his feet, he bows, opens the door and leaves her alone in the room, somewhat stunned.

"Did that...go well, or not?"

Hyakkimaru materializes next to her in seconds, as if he's popped into existence out of thin air. "You're not dead or poisoned, so I'd say this was a success."

"Wait--where were you?"

"In the closet," he says. "I had to be close enough to react if he tried something."

"So you saw...all of that?"

"Yes." He pauses. "It would have been better if you'd found an opening to reject him outright, but you can always do that formally through Daigo later."

"I can?"

"Yeah. Did you read your marriage contracts, or not?"

"Not," she says. "I was only going to read the one for whoever I was getting married to...are there copies somewhere I can read?"

"I'll get them from Daigo for you," he says.

"Really? Thanks."

"You're welcome." He looks at the floor for a moment. "Until Iwasa walked me through it...I didn't read my contract, either. I think that knowing it, reading it like that, makes it more real."

She nods. "It is real, whether it feels that way or not." She tilts her own face down so she can look him in the eye. "So, what do I call you during this whole preventing-my-assassination thing?"

"Huh?"

"I can't go around calling you by your first name in front of marriage prospects. It wouldn't look right, bodyguard-san." She flicks him in the nose.

He flinches out of the way. "Just call for guards, and I'll be there. There's no need to use my name." He looks toward the door that Suzuki left open. "Do you have time now? I need to tell you about your next one, and then you need to help me find Iwasa."

"I think I have time, but...Why Iwasa?"

"We're setting up him and Kaguya."

Dororo groans internally: she doesn't want to add marriage problems that aren't even her own to her plate. "Why?"

"It's for the sake of my future home life. So, come on."

***

The next day, it is Hiroko that brings Dororo breakfast in bed. She had given Dororo's health report to Hyakkimaru the previous night, so Dororo hasn't seen him at all since the previous afternoon. She wonders if she's in for a reprise of the silent treatment, and grits her teeth. _He doesn't like being loved_ , she reminds herself. _Daigo made him that way_. 

He had also promised to talk things out with her, as soon as this assassination attempt is thwarted.

That doesn't mean it isn't aggravating for her.

Hiroko dresses her carefully, and they begin a short trek toward the pagoda that surround a nearby temple. She can see the varnished wooden structures grow larger as she approaches them. Blankets and low tables have been set out in the surrounding area to help people enjoy the last of the season's warm weather in the shade. It's a short walk, but Dororo is a little out of breath by the end of it, and gratefully accepts the invitation to sit down on a fur-lined blanket sprinkled with cushions.

Hiroko helps her settle onto her knees. She looks around and sees many other couples eating, children playing, and people out on their own enjoying the sunshine. She does not see Hyakkimaru anywhere, but she can imagine what he's thinking: this is a bodyguard's nightmare. Even if Takaba Riku is not an assassin, he's given the other candidates an open shot at her.

She turns her attention to Takaba Riku himself. As Hyakkimaru had told her, he is eight years old, with a face like a Hina doll. It is also almost perfectly round, as are his haunches. Dororo has never seen anyone so large, at least in proportion to their body, in her entire life. Far from being disgusted by this, she is envious. Her mother had starved to death. She'd almost starved to death herself. The Takaba lands must produce a lot of food, to make such a child possible.

Hiroko presents a wicker basket from under her arm, and in it are several of Dororo's favorite foods: rice cakes, manjuu, egg sushi and fried tuna. She smiles at the food as Hiroko unpacks it, and asks, "What is your favorite food, Takaba-sama?"

"Sakuramochi!" he says with a bright smile. Some of his hair escapes his topknot and falls into his eyes.

He is adorable. Something in her chest feels bright and warm, and she's grinning like an idiot as she answers, "It's not the season for cherries, but..." she reaches into Hiroko's basket and finds what she's looking for: three perfectly formed green tea mochi. She presents all three of them to Takaba. "Here you go."

"Really?" His eyes are round and wet with tears of admiration.

"Help yourself," she says. "Hiroko, could you have the kitchen send us more mochi?"

Hiroko nods and excuses herself. Dororo takes a moment to verify that the knife is still concealed in her sleeve, but she's honestly more interested in Takaba than her own safety at the moment.

Takaba pushes one of the mochi into his mouth and smiles hugely as he chews, clearly relishing the sweetness and springy texture. "I love you, Dororo-sama!" he says after he's eaten all three.

She continues smiling her dopey smile at him and says, "You are very kind to say so." Then she picks up a manjuu bun and splits it in half. "Would you like to eat the rest of this with me? There's too much here for me to eat it all by myself."

"Yes, please!" he says. "You are my favorite person." He takes a bite from the manjuu.

"You are kind," Dororo says. He's a little kid. She finds him cute to an almost distressing degree, but there's no way she'd marry him; not now. She doesn't even know the sort of person he'll become as an adult. Something in her, though, wants him to stay just the same as he is. Happy, well-fed, quick to compliment, and instinctively kind. The world would be better if more people were like that.

Hiroko comes back with more mochi, and Takaba lines them up on his plate and looks at them like they are priceless treasure.

"I love mochi, too," Dororo says. "They're one of my favorites. Why do you like them?"

He frowns a little. "My mother used to make them for me, before she died. These are really good, but they're not as good as hers."

"I'm sorry," Dororo says. "My mother died, too."

"Really? That's sad, Dororo-sama."

"It's sad for you, too," she says.

Takaba frowns a little. "Father told me you'd be stuffy and mean, but you're not like that at all."

Mean? "Why on earth would I be mean to you, Takaba-sama?"

His frown deepens. "Most old people scold me for being fat, or for only caring about food, or for not sitting up straight, or speaking wrong, or..."

"...messing up your letters, or falling off your horse, or dropping your sword?" Dororo finishes.

His eyes go as wide as saucers. "How did you know?"

"I get scolded for the same things, Takaba-sama," she says. "For what it's worth, though, I think you're a remarkable samurai."

He looks at her for a moment, hard, and takes two mochi off his plate and presents them to her, one in each hand. She takes them, and says, "Thank you. But why?"

"You like them, too," he says. "And I want to share with you. Is that bad?"

"No," she says as she arranges the mochi on her own plate. "I think it's wonderful."

She passes a lovely lunch in the shade, and is almost sad when Hiroko tells her that Daigo has summoned her back to Kaguya's. She rises slowly and bows low to Takaba. "Thank you for the meal," she says. "It was an honor."

"Let's eat together again soon!" Takaba says. 

Dororo chuckles, and follows Hiroko through the picnicking people. Suddenly she hears something loud--fireworks?--and there is smoke, but no bright light. Someone screams, and a second later an arrow flies over her head and bounces off the nearest pagoda.

The disappointment at knowing that it was the Takaba clan that wanted her dead cuts her deeply for a moment. She doesn't think Riku himself is behind this, but his family must hate her a lot.

An arrow cuts through her kimono and grazes her shoulder, and Hyakkimaru yells, "Get down!" Then the area surrounding the pagodas becomes a mad crush of people trying to run away.

Dororo hears another arrow fly past her head, and she looks around, trying to find Hiroko and the Takaba lord. Hiroko is nowhere to be seen--she hopes that means she's fled--but Riku is still sitting on his cushion, frozen and paralyzed by fear.

Hyakkimaru starts leading her away from the pagodas, but she digs her heels in. Hyakkimaru continues to pull and her stitches pucker. He turns to look at her, and she says, "We can't just leave him!"

"For all you know, he could have set this up!" Hyakkimaru yells to make himself heard through the confusion.

Dororo lets go of Hyakkimaru's hand. She runs back to Takaba Riku and bodily picks him up--not an easy thing, but not impossible; he's only eight--and half-walks, half-jogs with him in her arms. 

Hyakkimaru catches up to her in an instant and transfers the boy from her arms to his, then asks, "Can you run?"

She takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how badly her stitches have been damaged, and nods shakily. 

"Good. Run as fast as you can, and I'll follow. We have to get you back to Kaguya's."

Dororo runs, but the pace feels slow. Black spots form on the edges of her vision. She gets Kaguya's doors in her sights and keeps moving, as fast as she can, until she reaches them. She can feel Hyakkimaru's presence close behind her the entire way.

She makes it to the doorway and collapses.

***

"Well, at least we know for sure that Oosuji's intelligence was good," Dororo says as Hyakkimaru cleans the wound on her arm.

"You're sure you're all right?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"It's just a scratch," Dororo says. "Not even poisoned or anything. It takes a lot more than that to kill me." She twists to look at the injury, and is reassured by how shallow it appears. "What about Takaba? Is he hurt?"

"He's fine. Iwasa carried him to Daigo so he could report what happened. Daigo wants to see you, too, when you're ready."

Dororo shrugs. "I'm ready whenever," she says. "Though I'm not entirely sure what happened."

"What I think happened," Hyakkimaru says, "is that the Takaba clan lured you into that park and used the time you were eating to set up an ambush. As soon as you moved to leave, they sprang the ambush, but didn't expect me to be nearby. They also," he says, "didn't expect you to try to save the kid. I thought you were an idiot at first, but it may have been the best thing you could have done."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because now Daigo doesn't have to go to war with Takaba," he says. "You saved the kid's life--or it looks that way, at least." He shakes his head. "I hope you're right about him, and he's not just another lying snake hungry for power. You looked like you were having fun, this afternoon."

"I was. Right up to the dodging arrows and bullets bit."

Hyakkimaru wraps her arm in a bandage. "I think the Suzuki and Itou clans could also have used your position to spring an ambush. Takaba may not be to blame." 

"It's a nice thought, anyway."

Hyakkimaru frowns. "There could also be more than one clan trying to kill you."

"You...suck at reassuring people. Do you know that?"

She goes with him to see Daigo. He opens the door for her, and she steps inside, expecting to see the familiar space littered with papers and littered with guards and retainers. But Daigo is, uncharacteristically, alone. She can even see the floor, and all his papers are stacked into one neat pile.

Hyakkimaru steps into the room behind her and closes the door.

Dororo bows a little, and she and Hyakkimaru approach Daigo where he is sitting on the opposite side of the room. 

"Dororo," he says, "are you injured?"

"No, not badly," she says.

"But you are hurt?"

"Just a scratch," she says. "My own fault. I hesitated before running, because I wanted to save Takaba-dono."

Daigo's eyes flick from her to Hyakkimaru. "I have heard his report. Do we know who was behind the attack?"

"Iwasa captured two of the assassins alive," Hyakkimaru says. 

Dororo's eyes widen; this is the first she's hearing of prisoners.

"I take it he is questioning them?" 

"Yes," Hyakkimaru says. "One confessed to working for Takaba, but he's lying."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"As sure as I can know anything," Hyakkimaru says.

So it's one of the other two clans--or both of them. "You could have told me that before," Dororo mutters.

"I was still working out the evidence in my head. Sorry."

"Regardless," Daigo says, "your offer from Takaba has been withdrawn. I also received your request from Hyakkimaru to withdraw from the Suzuki match. I've approved it."

Dororo nods. At least she's free of the fish-eating guy with bad teeth and worse manners. 

"I was thinking of withdrawing from the Itou offer as well, but it would not look good for us," he says. "So I will not."

"You're going to make her go through with another one of these?" Hyakkimaru asks. "When she was attacked today? Are you insane?"

Daigo looks at him with a level expression and says, "This is her duty. It is precisely because she is not married that she is such a target. A husband will protect her, and bring us allies, and more heirs for the clan." 

There is an unspoken challenge in Daigo's eyes: _What can_ **you** _offer, Hyakkimaru?_

Hyakkimaru flinches. "It's not safe here. Let her have meetings like this in Enuma, at least. Surrounded by guards and friends and people she knows."

"I'm standing right here," she says irritably. Then she sighs. "But I agree with Hyakkimaru. Why can't I go home, and resume marriage meetings there? There are still assassins that we didn't catch here. They could attack again."

"That is why I have assigned you a guard," Daigo says.

"I can't guard Dororo and hunt assassins at the same time," Hyakkimaru says.

"No," Daigo says. "You can't." He looks from Hyakkimaru to Dororo and says, "I have satisfied my curiosity about today's events. You are dismissed. Dororo, your next marriage meeting is in five days."

***

Hyakkimaru knocks on Iwasa's doorframe as he and Dororo make their way back to her room. Iwasa opens it, and says, "What's going on?"

"I need your help hunting down the rest of the assassins that were in the park today," Hyakkimaru says.

Iwasa shakes his head. "No good. They're probably long gone by now."

"Iwasa," Hyakkimaru says, "you forget that I'm familiar with some of your _resources."_ The way he stresses the word makes it a reference to Iwasa's mercenary days.

"Shit," Iwasa says. "I'm not getting my hands dirty with those guys again...unless there's something in it for me."

"Kaguya's renegotiating a contract for storing rice in the silos outside of town," Hyakkimaru says. "I've read the terms, and they're charging three times what they did last year."

"That's highway robbery."

Hyakkimaru shrugs. "You know what to do."

Iwasa frowns, but his expression lightens almost immediately. "Thanks for the tip, brother. I'll see what I can do."

Iwasa puts on his eboshi and picks up his sword and his gun, then leaves his room, marching in the direction of the main doors.

"Did you...did you just manipulate Iwasa into tracking down assassins for you?" Dororo asks.

"...Yes." He's not terribly proud of it, but if the assassins are found and Iwasa looks better in Kaguya's eyes, it's a win-win from his perspective.

Dororo laughs through her nose. "I want to hunt assassins, too."

"Bad idea, when you're the target."

"Yeah," she says. "I can't even bend over on my own right now." She glares at the new injury on her arm, which is still bleeding. "Get better, already," she says. "I need you."

***

The next morning, Hyakkimaru comes with her breakfast instead of Hiroko. "Did Daigo send you again?" she asks as he sets down her tray. Today it's egg sushi and rice.

"I slept outside the door," he says.

She glances at him sidelong. "Why?"

"In case the other assassins tried to break into your room. We have to be extra careful, for a while."

"I thought we already were being extra careful," she says. She holds up her chopsticks and mutters words of gratitude over the food. "Does Daigo know you slept here?"

"Yes."

"Oh. So then...did you...tell Daigo what I said to you?" she asks as she picks at her breakfast.

"No."

She lets out a long breath, then takes a huge bite and answers while chewing: "Thanks." 

"I didn't do it for you," he says. "Eat."

"I'm eating, I'm eating," she says, exasperated. "You apologized to me. Why?"

Silence.

"Because you don't love me? You can just say so."

He shakes his head. "It's not that simple."

"What do you mean?"

He opens his mouth to answer, and the ground shakes somewhere close, startling them both. The shaking continues, and Hyakkimaru motions for her to crawl under the kotatsu until the earthquake passes. He crawls under it with her, though it's a tight fit. The scrolls on the walls all tumble off their pegs and the window shutters fly open.

The earthquake only lasts a few seconds. When it passes, she climbs out from under the table, and he crawls out on the other side. 

"You're the light that didn't pass me by," he says as he gets to his feet. He paces around the room and rearranges things as he speaks, righting furniture and picking up scrolls to re-hang.

"Huh?"

"When I couldn't see," he explains as he squares the kotatsu table. "I passed a lot of people--most people just ignored me. Some attacked me for my possessions. Demons always attacked me. But aside from Jukai, I never had anyone else...stay with me, before. Willingly. Why did you do that? You called me a monster when we met." 

She gulps. "How do you know? You couldn't hear."

"There was fear in your aura," he says. He hangs up a fallen scroll. "I recognized general meanings and intentions well before I could hear," he says. "You were scared of me, but you stayed.

"Why?" he asks, leaning forward and looking her in the eyes, as if he's trying to figure her out through nonverbal cues. 

"You were scary," she admits, "but you were cool. I mean, the way you dealt with that mud monster was epic! I figured I could watch you, learn from you, maybe steal a sword when you weren't looking." She smiles a little wistfully at the memory. "So I stayed, and we fought demons together. You helped me when I was sick. We were friends." She shakes her head. "We _are_ friends."

He doesn't say anything. Just hangs up another scroll, and looks at her again. The room now appears close to how it did before the earthquake.

"...aren't we?"

"You're afraid of me again, now," he says, and nothing changes about his level and intense stare. "Why?"

That's right. She'd been afraid of him when he'd fixed her stitches. She hadn't trusted or followed him immediately when he'd told her to get down and run--she had turned back instead. She had never doubted him before. There are unbridgeable spaces between them now that did not used to exist.

"It's not you I'm afraid of," she says. "I've always been scared that you'll vanish--leave me alone again," she says, "but you being here doesn't scare me. Except..." Except when she is especially vulnerable. 

"Except?" he prompts.

When she realizes it, her knees almost go out from under her. 

Some of the feelings that feed her fear of him are ones she recognizes: self-doubt, unworth, instinctive fears of assault and rape. But she brushes all that aside, because in that admixture of emotions is the overarching idea that Hyakkimaru does not like being, and in some ways is not capable of being, loved.

Her fear is not: _What if Hyakkimaru doesn't love me?_

It is: _What if Hyakkimaru can't love anyone?_

That broken part may be the only thing about him that she actually hates. Not because it deprives her of what she wants, but because she suspects it's the only thing that he can't fix about himself. The damage is too deep, too permanent. She feels like she's been asked to help someone grow a soul. 

"Sorry," she says as she catches herself against the wall. "But I think this is something...something we need to talk about after my life's not in danger anymore." 

His expression is pained, but he nods. "I understand." A pause. "You should get some rest. I'll call Hiroko."

***

Dororo wakes up with a hand covering her mouth and another one holding her arms behind her back.

She bites the hand and tries to scream, and whoever's holding her grapples her for a second and rolls, taking her down and landing on top of her.

"Dororo."

It's Hyakkimaru.

"You scared me half to death," she says. "What do you want?"

"Sorry," he says. "I had to make sure you could fight if you were attacked."  
  
Her eyes narrow. "Why?"  
  
"Daigo's ordered me to kidnap you," he says.

"What?"

"We dealt with some of the assassins," he says, "but Iwasa told me they're sending more. It's not safe here for you, so if you're strong enough to fight, we're leaving."

"Where?"

"Enuma."

"Oh." She frowns. "Won't I get in trouble for missing the third marriage meeting?"

"As to that," Hyakkimaru says, "Akiko is pretending to be you, and Tarou is pretending to be me." A pause. "I told Iwasa that I'd kill him if he lets either one of them die, so they should be safe until we all get to Enuma."

"And what then?"

"Enuma has an army, and a spy network, that Konzo can't match," Hyakkimaru says. "You'll be safer there. We just need to get there in one piece."

Dororo packs her swords and change of clothes. Hyakkimaru climbs out the window and lands silently, then beckons her to follow. It's a new moon and quite dark, so landing safely is a bit tricky, but she manages, and the two of them melt into the trees near the temple, then hug the walls of buildings until they reach one of the openings in Konzo's stockade.

There's a guard at the gate, but Hyakkimaru waves to him, and they're immediately waved through. "Iwasa's cousin," he says as they pass. "They never saw us."

She lets out a slow breath.

They start walking along the road, but Hyakkimaru soon leads them into the underbrush. It's so dark that she can't see her feet, and she feels dizzy enough to fall over.

Hyakkimaru catches her mid-fall and says, "You can't walk all the way there." He puts his back to her and extends his arms backward. "Climb aboard."

She sighs, and complains, "I feel like I'm ten again." She puts her hands on his shoulders.

He hoists her up. "I wish you were ten again. You'd be a lot lighter."

They walk through the trees in the dark, silent, for a long time. The steps fall into a rhythm; she almost nods off.

"What would have happened," Dororo says, "if you'd woken me up and I couldn't fight back?"

"I would have hidden you in one of the convents near Konzo instead."

She hmphs. "I'd hate that."

"I know."

She rests her head against Hyakkimaru's shoulder. "Hyakki."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For kidnapping me."

"Anytime," he says.

She falls asleep.


	18. Clean Slate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mizuha," he says.
> 
> She looks over at him. "Yes?"
> 
> "Can you...show me?" His life, if he'd never been cursed by demons.
> 
> "Yes," she says. "You can look around as much as you like--but when you want to come back here, you can only do it by praying to me at the Hall of Hell. Do you understand?"
> 
> He nods. "How long will I be gone?" he asks, glancing over at Dororo passed out in the hollow stump of the tree.
> 
> "Only a few seconds," Mizuha says. "You are not actually 'going' anywhere--a different version of you existing on a different temporal timeline is going to split off from the current moment, and return you here when you've seen enough. Do you understand?"
> 
> "Not really," he says. "But I won't be gone long, and I need to pray to you at the Hall of Hell to get back. Right?"
> 
> "Right."
> 
> "Then do it," he says. 
> 
> She bends down and takes his hands in both of hers, and the two of them are briefly surrounded in a corona of flame.
> 
> Dororo stirs in her sleep and opens one eye. "Hyakki?" she asks, yawning hugely. "Where did you go?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got loooong, so I've split it into two parts. The second part is almost done, and will return Hyakkimaru to the "real" world.

Hyakkimaru is kicked awake by Iwasa in the middle of the night. Iwasa has awakened him plenty of times before, far less violently, so he snaps to alertness immediately, thinking that something must be very wrong.

"What?"

"The assassin is in the house," Iwasa says. "We have to move. Get Dororo out. Make sure she can run before you flee--you'll almost certainly be pursued."

Pursued? "Where am I going?"

"Enuma, if Dororo can run," Iwasa says. "The temple outside town if she can't--one of my cousins will sneak you past the temple master and the prioress, if it comes to it, but that's bad position to be in." Hyakkimaru hears him loud and clear: being trapped in a temple with assassins after them would put them in an untenable spot the second they got discovered. He hopes that Dororo can actually run.

"How many are there?"

"My best guess from the marks on the stockade is ten," he says. "They scaled their way in so they wouldn't be seen at the gate, and Oosuji caught one trying to break in. No telling how many there are outside of town."

"Sounds like they're here to kill more than one target."

"I have eyes on Daigo, Hitomi, Kaguya, and the kids." A pause. "The kids are going to be your smokescreen, so you and Dororo can disappear. As far as we know, she's the main target."

Hyakkimaru gets to his feet and starts packing his few belongings into his familiar satchel. "I don't like using the kids that way."

"They volunteered, and this is an order," Iwasa says in a voice like steel. "Hyakkimaru. Daigo told me not to, but I have to tell you.

"You're also a target, for these assassins. A primary one."

"Me?"

Iwasa nods. "So run. And if I ever find out those bastards killed you, I'll dig you up, resurrect you and kill you again. Got it?"

"Got it." 

Iwasa clasps his arm briefly, then bows before he leaves.

Hyakkimaru finishes packing and goes down to the kitchen to swipe whatever isn't nailed down and will keep for a long time. On the way, he checks every corner before he turns it, checking for intruders, but he finds none. He grabs some leeks, bags of rice and dried meat from the kitchen, then goes to get Dororo.

The halls are quiet until he reaches the corridor where his and Dororo's rooms are. He turns, and sees a shadow crouched unmoving next to Dororo's door. The figure does not turn toward him; he must have been quiet enough in the dark to have avoided detection thus far. He springs on the figure with his bare hands, attempting to grapple and capture them, but as soon as his hands find the figure's neck, it vanishes.

He had not even been able to tell if it had been a man or a woman. But no ordinary human man or woman could have so thoroughly vanished, leaving no trace, directly in front of him. They may be dealing with demons here--or gods like Mizuha.

He sneaks into Dororo's room silently, and decides (not without regret) that attacking her is probably the best way to verify if she can defend herself.

She can--surprisingly well, given her injuries--but he still winds up carrying her most of the night. He walks through thickets and over small streams in the pale dim light of a new moon, feeling her reassuring weight across his shoulders and his hips. He feels oddly protected, as if she's the one doing the carrying. 

They make good time. By the time the sun comes up the next morning, they're out of Takeda territory and into the no-man's-land between provinces. 

***  
  


The next day, Dororo is able to walk for much of the morning at a good pace. They're mostly moving off-road through bamboo thickets and deep underbrush; speed isn't the priority, concealment is. They don't talk; Dororo struggles to breathe and walk at the same time, but she makes it four continuous hours before asking for a break. Hyakkimaru considers the idea that she might be able to run soon--if they need to.

Hyakkimaru finds a high flat rock near a riverbank and helps Dororo sit down; she does well when she can stay in the same position, but getting up and lying down are still painful without assistance. He rations out some of the food he'd packed, and they start eating a joyless meal of dried meat and hardened rice cakes: it is too dangerous to build a fire.

"How far is it to Enuma on foot, anyway?" Dororo asks.

"The way we're going? A few weeks at least."

Dororo looks down at her food with a little frown. "I don't know if I can make it that far on just this."

"It'll be safer to forage and hunt when we get back to Kaga," he says. "That's less than a week off, if we keep up the same pace."

She gives him a bitter smile. "Sounds impossible to me. But I'll try."

Hyakkimaru carries her for the afternoon, and they stop for the night when they find a hollowed-out tree with a flat bottom; ideal for camping even without a fire. Hyakkimaru sleeps with his back to Dororo, curled up in the hollow of the tree, listening to her breathing.

It's heavy and labored in a way it hadn't been during the day. Dororo had been hiding the effects of this forced march on her from him.

He could carry her more, but then he'd collapse--at worst. He could also injure or fatigue himself to such a degree that he'd be in no position to protect her.

 _We need to slow down_ , he thinks.

But assassins are following them.

Dororo falls asleep behind him, and her breathing evens out as he thinks about the landscape around them, any hidden roads they might take. Jukai had taught him ways through the mountains that are entirely trackless, only good for foragers; taking those ways would slow them down, but it might be safer than hewing close to the main roads.

He sees the shadow of something moving outside in the dim light of dusk. It could be an animal, but better safe than sorry; he sits up and draws both swords, then leaves the relative shelter of the stump to look around.

The evening wind blowing in from the sea is as cold as winter, and he shivers. He hears footsteps, faint, to his right, and ducks as a long weapon with a hooked pointed end like a scythe slashes over his head.

He turns to face his attacker, and recognizes him immediately even in the low light: "Itou Inoue," Hyakkimaru says. He had suspected him the most out of all the assassins from the beginning. He is young, has no immediate living family, and has the reputation of being a wanderer and a thief.

And he's also a murderer, apparently. He's too clumsy to be called an assassin.

"Daigo's spawn." Itou nods in acknowledgement. "Just the one I was looking for."

"You're looking for me?" Hyakkimaru asks, positioning his swords in a defensive X to protect his torso from the long reach of Itou's weapon.

Itou grins, and something in it looks strangely unhinged, like the expressions he'd seen on the face of the possessed Tahoumaru. 

"Yes," Itou says, and lashes out with his weapon in a strike to Hyakkimaru's head.

Hyakkimaru dodges easily and sidesteps, bringing him closer into Itou's space; he slashes one sword high to block the oncoming naginata and the other low in a disemboweling cut.

The lower sword cuts through flesh, and Itou gushes blood from his abdomen but otherwise shows no reaction, and that's all the confirmation that Hyakkimaru needs to know that he's possessed by at least one demon.

"Who sent you?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"Mizuha sends her regards," Itou says, baring pointed teeth. He strikes low with the point of his naginata to trip Hyakkimaru; Hyakkimaru leaps over the weapon and aims both of his swords at Itou's head.

Itou knows about the goddess of mercy, and maybe the Hall of Hell demons. But Biwamaru had told him that those demons are dead. He pushes the problem aside and focuses on killing the man in front of him, before he can threaten Dororo's or his own safety.

Hyakkimaru presses the attack, and Itou blocks high in a circular motion, sending him sprawling backward with the force of it. Itou tries to stab him when he's down, but he ducks around a bamboo tree and uses his pivoting foot to turn and land a kick to Itou's chest that staggers him. 

"You're good," Itou says, out of breath. "But I'm better." He lets out a low whistle, shrill. By slow degrees, the skin of his face and arms starts glowing faintly red, the same way minor demons used to glow when Hyakkimaru still lacked eyes. The glow spreads from his chest into his arms, becoming brighter and more intense.

Hyakkimaru hacks at the place of greatest brightness on instinct, and the blood that stains his sword is black and hisses like it's acidic. He jumps back and examines his sword briefly, but it's fine.

Itou's eyes fix themselves on Hyakkimaru's left sword as if it's personally offended him. 

Hyakkimaru smiles. "This sword kills demons." He blocks a clumsy slash from Itou and opens two wounds on his upper legs before darting away, and really the most surprising thing is that Itou keeps coming--with his guts falling out, and his legs bleeding, and one arm half-hanging by torn ligaments and broken bone from where Hyakkimaru had cut through the limb.

Decapitation may be the only way to make him stop attacking. Hyakkimaru sprints toward the nearest tree that's thick enough to hold his weight, then uses his heels to spring off the trunk to get high enough to get past the guard of the naginata. Itou's head goes flying off, and Hyakkimaru lands behind him. He cleans his swords on his kimono and prepares to sheath them.

He turns around to look at Itou, and he freezes.

Itou aims directly at him with the naginata, even lacking eyes. His skin is red, radiating heat; it almost looks molten from the eerie glow of demonic magic. 

Hyakkimaru manages to use his landing momentum to make a running leap over the naginata, and over Itou himself. In midair, he locks eyes with Itou's decapitated head, and notices that Itou's eyes are still following him. Somehow, Itou is still alive.

Hyakkimaru lands and turns, raising his swords in a pose of defiance. "You're a Hall of Hell demon," he mutters, slightly out of breath. "You must be."

"Half right," a familiar voice says from behind him, and he ducks all the way down and covers his face as a wide shaft of white light illuminates the mountain as bright as day.

When the light fades, Itou has vanished, and Mizuha stands before him, radiating more than her usual level of light and heat.

"What...was that?" Hyakkimaru asks. 

Her expression twists in what looks like pain. "Itou--is what you would have become. If the demons had taken you."

He nods in slow understanding. "Did you--kill him?"

"I wounded him," Mizuha says, "but his power comes from many demons, who are still alive. So long as they live, so will he."

"I thought I killed all the demons in Kaga," he mutters.

"You did," Mizuha says. "All the ones with significant power, anyway. But demons can move around, just like humans. And other lands have other demons," she says. "It seems that one has arisen that strongly desires to kill you, but not for personal reasons."

"Huh?"

"Kurakawa Kouhei made a deal," Mizuha says. "This may prove complicated."

"Why?"

"Demons exist in a hierarchy or power structure, much like humans. In terms of power, he and I are similar," Mizuha says. "And I don't know if I'm stronger than him or not."

A pause. "I...didn't know there were any demons more powerful than you," Hyakkimaru says. 

"There are not," Mizuha says with a touch of asperity. "He is the guardian god of his province. He is not evil--just shortsighted." She sits down next to Hyakkimaru, and warmth and heat seep into his exhausted bones. "Kurakawa Kouhei's home and family have been destroyed by the Daigo clan. The god pitied that. It's also a common story--for all that Daigo has changed over the past ten years, he has still destroyed more than he's built."

Hyakkimaru nods. Good and evil are often a matter of perspective. "So--what has this god done?"

"He has given Kurakawa the power to overthrow his enemies, in the desire to bring peace. Beyond that, I don't know. I do think that the time is coming when you will have to choose."

"Choose--what?"

"To stay here and face the wrath of more demons," she says, "or to attempt another path, without demons on it."

He remembers Mizuha's offer then: a chance to see what his life would have been like if the demons had never taken his body in the first place. A chance to confront Obariyon and save himself before he'd even been born.

"What would you choose?" he asks.

"That isn't how choice works," Mizuha says. "I can give you information, but I am not here to sway you, one way or the other. All I can do is encourage you to examine all your options before making a choice."

He nods; it's good advice. "Mizuha," he says.

She looks over at him. "Yes?"

"Can you...show me?" His life, if he'd never been cursed by demons.

"Yes," she says. "You can look around as much as you like--but when you want to come back here, you can only do it by praying to me at the Hall of Hell. Do you understand?"

He nods. "How long will I be gone?" he asks, glancing over at Dororo passed out in the hollow stump of the tree.

"Only a few seconds," Mizuha says. "You are not actually 'going' anywhere--a different version of you existing on a different temporal timeline is going to split off from the current moment, and return you here when you've seen enough. Do you understand?"

"Not really," he says. "But I won't be gone long, and I need to pray to you at the Hall of Hell to get back. Right?"

"Right."

"Then do it," he says. 

She bends down and takes his hands in both of hers, and the two of them are briefly surrounded in a corona of flame.

Dororo stirs in her sleep and opens one eye. "Hyakki?" she asks, yawning hugely. "Where did you go?"

***

Hyakkimaru blinks several times as the dazzling light of a mid-morning sun shines directly into his eyes. 

He's on an unfamiliar futon; he can feel that much without even looking, and the entire room is bright with sunshine; someone has allowed him to sleep in. He sits up and looks around. He doesn't recognize this place, but he assumes that he is somewhere in Daigo's palace.

The room around him is clean and fairly empty, save for his two swords hanging on a stand in one corner and a small butsudan in the other. The butsudan has an incense burner and a small bronze statue on it; apparently the person he'd become in this version of reality is devout. 

He runs his hands along the hilts of his swords for reassurance, then approaches the butsudan. He notices that the statue looks very much like the one he'd received from his mother in his previous life. He examines the sculpture more closely, and sees that its head is intact; the statue had never lost it.

This is a world where Daigo never sold him to the demons. 

He wonders if the demons still exist--and if Daigo had offered them something else instead. "Mizuha?" he asks out loud. "Are you here?"

Silence. No goddess of mercy here. No Dororo or Iwasa or Akiko or Tarou, either. Not even Kaguya. Just him and Daigo, in the same house.

Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. 

It's the only idea he has. If he fails here, he has to accept that he is, or will become, a demonic vessel. Like Itou. A chill goes down his spine. He needs to find out if Dororo, and all the others, are alive here. If they are, he might be able to fix everything.

He looks down at himself, and notices that he's wearing actual pajamas, probably for the first time in his life. The worn, soft fabric feels alien, so he roots around the room and finds a built-in closet in the wall next to his swords. The closet is full of clothes, some rough (probably for working and training), but mostly rich and expensive. To him, the painted details and fine embroidery make the clothes look more like something a wealthy woman might wear than a man.

He dresses himself in a rough kimono with the Daigo mon patterned all over it that both looks and feels familiar, and feels instantly more at ease. His skin is relatively unmarked and paler than he's used to; the spear wound he'd gotten from Kurakawa Kouhei is gone without a trace, and almost all of his scars are, too.

 _My life must be easy here,_ he thinks. Maybe he's never had to go to war before.

His stomach rumbles. He doesn't know where the kitchen is in this place, but he's sure he can find it if he follows the smells. He opens the door and sees a large man sitting seiza in front of him, facing the engawa and a small garden that the room opens out on.

"Tono-sama," the man says as he pivots toward him, bowing his head to the floor.

The sight of the huge, burly man makes all the muscles along Hyakkimaru's spine tighten. Hyakkimaru recognizes him: it's Hyougo. Hyougo, who had attacked him using his own severed arm. Hyougo, who had chopped the horse Midoro to pieces. Before that, he had used dirty tactics and pinned Hyakkimaru against the trees on the island with Shiranui and the shark demon.

Hyougo is a threat, and in about one second he is going to grab his swords off their stand and--

Hyougo frowns at him. "My lord? Are you well?"

"I am fine," he says stiffly as he rearranges his thoughts. When they'd first met, Hyakkimaru had saved him from being eaten by a sea monster. He tries to focus on that. "Only...where is Mutsu?" he asks, remembering the name of Tahoumaru's other servant.

"With Ishimaru-dono, I expect," Hyougo says. "You did promise to spar with him tonight."

"You mean my brother?" he asks. He thought his brother had been Tahoumaru...but then he remembers what his mother had told him at Banmon, all those years ago, and he almost slaps himself on the forehead.

His name isn't Hyakkimaru anymore. He's Tahoumaru now. In his old life, Nui no Kata had given her second son the name because she'd assumed Hyakkimaru was dead; she had named him Tahoumaru before Daigo had sent him off to be drowned in the river. 

So he is Tahoumaru now, and his brother is Ishimaru.

That is going to take some getting used to.

Hyakkimaru nods absently at Hyougo. Based on Hyougo's brief description, he and Tahoumaru--no, Ishimaru, dammit--either get along reasonably well in this world, or they have a different sort of rivalry than they used to have. It will be interesting to see which is the case. 

"I've completely forgotten what I was supposed to do today," he mutters. His relocation to this timeline had not come with any memories to match. He is going to have to fumble through this, at least for a little while, to figure out what his life is actually like here.

"You asked me not to disturb you," Hyougo says, "but I imagined you would be hungry, so your breakfast will be ready soon. I will bring it, and we can discuss today's schedule, tono-sama."

"Great. Thanks." He's beginning to understand how Dororo's life had changed after being adopted by Daigo. If his biological parents expect more out of him than swordsmanship, herbalism and woodcraft, they'll probably be disappointed in him.

Hyougo leaves, and Hyakkimaru takes another look around his room. The closet that contains his clothes also has a foldable table and cushions, which he arranges for a meal. 

That done, he picks up and unsheathes each of his swords, and while the blades are honed sharp and the balance is perfect, he knows that these are not the ones he'd gotten from Jukai.

He wonders if Jukai is still alive in this world.

Hyougo asks for permission to enter. He grants it, and Hyougo comes in and arranges breakfast on Hyakkimaru's low table. Hyakkimaru mutters thanks over his food, and Hyougo does the same. Then they start talking about what the day has in store.

"Your first commitment is to your wife, tono-sama," Hyougo says. "She will arrive at the palace today, and it would be kind of you to consider her comfort and courtesy."

"My wife?" he asks with a little frown. He's married? Since when? To who?

"Kyouko-sama," Hyougo says. "Of the Asakura clan. You have only met a few times in person, since she is still in the process of moving her household into the palace, but she writes you letters every day," Hyougo chides him. "I know you do not care for her much, but that is no reason to pretend she does not exist."

Hyakkimaru forces a smile and puts his hand through his hair. The style is unfamiliar; he has a topknot like Daigo's and Tahoumaru's, no, dammit, Ishimaru's. Of course he does. "You're right," he says, and thinks: _She writes letters. Every day._

If he finds those letters, he'll gain a treasure trove of information about himself.

"She will arrive around midday," he says. "After that, your father expects you to train some of the raw recruits that he just signed on from Konzo. And after that, Ishimaru-dono would like to spar with you. If there is time, the governor you appointed for the Asakura provinces also wants an audience with you."

No wonder his body's less battle-honed than it used to be. He has an alarming amount of meetings planned for just a single day. "Put the governor off until tomorrow, if possible," Hyakkimaru ventures.

"Of course, tono-sama," Hyougo says. He looks at Hyakkimaru's clothes. "We must get you into something more presentable for the arrival of your wife, tono-sama."

Hyakkimaru groans internally, and makes traveling to the Hall of Hell at his earliest convenience his top priority. He doesn't really need to see more, does he?

Yes, he does. He doesn't even know if Dororo is alive here. He doesn't even know how to find out--but he'd like to try before giving up.

Hyougo selects something for him to wear, and he dismisses him before the man can actually try to help him dress. He has a clammy claustrophobic feeling as Hyougo's eyes track him; it doesn't pass until Hyougo is out of the room. He re-dresses himself in great haste, then ransacks the room in an attempt to find his wife's letters.

He finds them in a box at the bottom of his closet that looks like it's usually used for trash. He scoops out a dozen or so of the letters and smooths them as flat as possible, then begins to read. 

His wife's letters use polite terms, but never terms of actual endearment, and the tone is distant and cold. That makes sense, based on what Hyougo has told him; they haven't been married long and don't know one another very well yet. 

The first letter he reads is short to the point of abrupt:

_Husband,_  
_I have departed Konzo on 2nd September. Weather permitting, I will reach Enuma between 15 and 17 September._  
_Your Wife_

So Konzo still exists, and is big enough to be more than a dot on the map. That's comforting.

The next letter he reads summarizes her journey from Konzo, mentioning a little about the local lords--Takeda being one of them. He hopes to find Iwasa's name somewhere in the letters, but it never turns up. 

He also finds out that Takeshitsu Kaguya is part of his wife's entourage, so he'll be seeing at least one familiar face soon enough.

Reading between the lines of Kyouko's letters, he sees himself as something of a cold and arrogant bastard, a little like how he perceives Daigo. She never shares anything of herself, and presents the facts of her journey in a distant and clinical style. Hyougo's right; he must be a total jerk.

The only other thing he really learns, apart from his wife's perceptions of him, is the condition of the road between here and Konzo. It's not good--bridges washed out, bandits roaming, muddy and collapsing even in places that have recently been replaced. 

Since Dororo is not Daigo's heir in this world, no one had bothered improving the road. It's something he'll have to bring up to Daigo, when he gets the time.

***

Some time before lunch, Hyougo announces that his wife's wagon train has been sighted, and he goes down to greet her, feeling stiff and heavy in his formal clothes.

When he arrives in the lower courtyard, it is raining; Hyougo hands him an extra umbrella as he steps out beyond the eaves to meet his wife. She's wearing a heavy hat and a veil to keep the water off; he approaches and offers her the umbrella. She looks from him to the umbrella, then takes it.

He bows a little, not knowing what's expected, and says, "I have been rude in not returning any of your letters. As an apology, please allow me to guide you to your rooms, and help you get settled."

He can't see her reaction from behind the veil, but he can guess that he's behaving out of character. She partially unwraps her face and laughs a little through her nose. "All right, Daigo-tono. I suppose I can permit that."

Being called by his surname flicks across all his senses like the bite of a whip, but he stifles the sensation and takes her hand. 

Then he realizes he has no idea where he's going. 

His brother passes him and his wife as they walk toward the house, and Ishimaru meanders nonchalantly ahead of them a little ways, guiding Hyakkimaru without making it obvious.

Hyakkimaru decides then that Ishimaru is a wonderful person. He's undeserving of it, and feels a sudden surge of guilt for killing him--even if it was in self-defense, and even though Tahoumaru/Ishimaru had been possessed by a demon at the time.

A servant that Hyakkimaru faintly recognizes opens the door to his wife's rooms. Ryouma, or Ryou, or something; he'd seen him taking care of Dororo's horse before. Hyakkimaru follows Kyouko inside, and asks if she needs anything.

"That's very solicitous," she says as she removes her hat, "but I believe I am capable of getting settled without further help."

He hadn't gotten a good look at her face outside. He also hadn't even considered that this Kyouko could be *the* Kyouko, the clanless girl who had been involved with Kurakawa Kouhei in his other life. He realizes all at once that she must have gotten married to Kouhei here. Then Hyakkimaru or his father must have killed Kouhei, and married off his widow to create some kind of peace. Perhaps she'd been pregnant at the time, and Daigo had forced him into it so they could control the Kurakawa clan's heir.

He hates himself. No: he hates politics, and being a politician. He finds it hard to believe that this was ever meant to be his life.

"I will help bring your things in," he says, "but you won't see me, if that's what you want. Rest well, Kyouko-san." He can't call her his wife--he can't--but he can at least attempt to be marginally polite.

He bows a little, and she narrows her eyes at him, as if she's trying to figure him out. He goes back down to the courtyard, and Ishimaru locks into step with him along the way.

"Thank you," Hyakkimaru says.

"I did nothing. Glad to see you're being nice to her, for a change."

Hyakkimaru realizes that *Tahoumaru* is the nice brother in this version of reality. If his observations are accurate, he would have grown up to be a lot like Daigo, lacking the influence of the demons. And Jukai.

But he's here now, as himself, and it's never too late to be a better person.

"I just got sick of fighting about it," he says.

"Mom will be overjoyed. You should bring her turtledove soup and talk to her about Kyouko-sama. She'd love that."

"Maybe I wi..." He stops mid-sentence when he notices something squirming in the back of one of the carts carrying Kyouko's things. He jerks his head in the direction of the movement, and Ishimaru nods. 

The two of them triangulate upon the moving figure and spring upon it at the same time. Hyakkimaru grabs an arm and Ishimaru gets a solid grip on a shoulder and hauls up. 

It's a woman: young, filthy, and emaciated. She is eating two peaches at once, and even being seized by the arms had not caused her to drop either one of them. 

"Thief!" Ishimaru says. "You'll lose your hands!"

"Uh oh, you caught me," the thief says, sounding bored. "Let me eat."

Ishimaru tightens his grip, but Hyakkimaru lets her go suddenly, because despite the matted hair and filth, he still knows that voice. "Dororo?"

"You know this thing?" Ishimaru asks with contempt.

Dororo also freezes and looks at him. The gold flecks in her irises are comfortingly familiar, but the expression in her eyes is fiercer and more feral than he remembers.

It would have to be. She's been alone, all this time. 

"Don't cut off any limbs," Hyakkimaru says to Ishimaru. He tries to ignore the irony in that. "Tie her up. I want to question her."

"Seriously?" Ishimaru asks.

"Yes."

Ishimaru shrugs. "Whatever you say, ani-ue." He draws his sword, and uses the hilt to knock Dororo out.

Hyakkimaru winces, but he suspects this was the only way to save her life.

***

He finishes bringing Kyouko's things in, then heads to the practice yard, carrying an umbrella. It's deserted, but he thinks there was a small building like a temple dojo somewhere around...

There, a little to the west of the training yard. If he and Tahoumaru (no, dammit) _Ishimaru_ can't spar outside, they should be able to use that building. It also looks like it's big enough to hold some of the recruits Hyougo had told him about that morning. He sprints toward the building, the hems of his hakama dragging a little in the rain, and he decides that he prefers the clothes he had before, in his old life. 

He slides open the building's wooden door, and finds Ishimaru already there, warming up, along with half a dozen others. There are candles and small oil lamps set at the edges of the room, far enough in from the walls that an errant gust of wind won't blow them over. The inside of the building is bare of any ornamentation; the floor is worn with the passing of many feet.

Yes, he remembers this place, vaguely. He'd landed on top of its roof when he'd fled from Daigo's household the first time.

"You showed," Ishimaru says.

"Of course," Hyakkimaru says. "I owe you, don't I?"

Ishimaru snorts through his nose. "Never stopped you from blowing me off before."

"Anyway," Hyakkimaru says, surveying the assembled group of recruits: five men, one woman.

The woman is unmistakably Akiko. She looks like she just stepped directly out of his old life to this one, so strong is the resemblance in her appearance and her posture.

But he isn't supposed to know this world's Akiko, so he has to be careful.

"These are Takeshitsu Kaguya's lot," Ishimaru says. "She says they're good, but I'll be the judge of that."

The recruits all square their shoulders, entering ready pose. "Which weapons are we testing?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"Just bare-handed and swords today," Ishimaru answers. "Archery and marksmanship'll have to wait for the weather to clear up."

Hyakkimaru nods. "You want me to take three, and you take three, or..."

"What, you fight?" Ishimaru asks. He chuckles. Then he looks at him closer and says, "Oh, you're serious. Fine. You take the woman and the two guys on the left. I'll test the others."

Hyakkimaru sets his swords aside, and lines up the cadets he's been assigned. Akiko lines up last. That's probably just as well; he hasn't tried fighting in this world yet, and it's possible that he's as hopeless as Ishimaru seems to think.

"Name and rank," Hyakkimaru calls out. 

"Nobutora Takeda. I'm a ronin. My preferred weapon is the spear."

Hyakkimaru nods acknowledgement, but something shakes loose inside his memory: the name is familiar. Takeda, yes, that's Iwasa's clan name, but...it's something else.

He bows and announces the commencement of the match. Ishimaru does the same behind him.

Within scant seconds, he manages to disable Nobutora Takeda with a simple leg trip. He pins him, and while he is leaning over him with his arm across his shoulders, he recognizes him: Nobutora Takeda is Iwasa's half-brother. The one he'd killed outside the stockade at Konzo, years ago in his timeline. 

Daigo must have obliterated most of his family, considering his current position. Reflexively, without even thinking about it, he says, "Your brother put up more of a fight when he was concussed and half-conscious."

"You...knew my brother?" Nobutora asks him.

"Probably not," Hyakkimaru says as he helps the man up. "Just muttering to myself."

Nobutora's eyes widen, but he says nothing. Hyakkimaru hopes Nobutora's use of the past tense doesn't mean Iwasa is dead, but he doesn't know how to ask the question while making it relevant to sparring, so he lets it go. He'll ask Hyougo about the local lords and retainers later.

The next recruit lines up, and he is blissfully unfamiliar. He is also too easy to bring down: he makes a wide swiping blow toward Hyakkimaru's head, and Hyakkimaru grabs the wrist of his curved arm and uses his own momentum to twist his body so that it faces away from Hyakkimaru. Then all he needs to do is pull down on the arm to land the man on his ass.

Ishimaru turns to look at him with surprise, and Hyakkimaru shrugs. Maybe this body's not as strong or tough or battle-hardened as the one he'd left behind, but he still has all his memories of fighting. It's hard to believe he'd actually do poorly here.

Now it's Akiko's turn, and the look in her eyes is calculated and calm. She is sizing him up, and makes no move to attack.

Then she strikes up with her left arm, but she's not left-handed. He dodges the feint and catches her right fist before it strikes low and shoves her backwards. She catches herself immediately on the balls of her feet and springs, hands moving to claw his eyes, and he has to duck and charge into her to bring her down.

"Not bad," he says as he helps her up. Much better than the others, but Akiko was never much of a brawler. Give her a sword, though, and she could keep even him busy for a while.

But that was the old Akiko.

He's glad the new Akiko still knows how to fight, even if her timing could use some work.

"How did you see through the first attack?" Akiko asks with a little frown.

"Most people aren't left-handed," he says.

Her frown deepens. "Most people don't notice that, tono-sama."

Hyakkimaru grins at her. "I know. But I'm left-handed."

He turns around and finds Ishimaru staring at him like he's grown an extra head. "What?"

Ishimaru doesn't say anything, and snaps himself out of his disbelief with visible effort. "Are any worth taking into household for training?" he asks.

"Ak--The woman," he says. He has only heard Akiko's name once in this world, and he doesn't remember her surname.

Ishimaru nods acknowledgement, then invites Hyakkimaru to the center of the room. Hyakkimaru complies, then bows.

"If I win our fight," Hyakkimaru says, "will you hunt a brace of turtledoves to bring to mother?"

"If you win, sure ani-ue," Ishimaru says with a bright smile. "You never win, though."

Great. It seems being born entitled has also made him lazy. Wonderful. The more time he spends here, the more he thinks he's really better off in the world where he was possessed by demons.

He and Tahoumaru select wooden practice swords from a stand in the far left corner near two lamps. Thunder echoes at some distance, and in the stillness of the room, the sound of rain feels loud. Hyakkimaru corrects his grip on the heavier weapons, then faces Ishimaru in ready pose.

Ishimaru is fast; almost as fast as he is--he notices that as he dodges quick thrusts to his head and shoulders, controlled disemboweling slashes to his gut. He's also more aggressive than Hyakkimaru remembers; his memories of their fights had his brother more calculating and less confident, perhaps because his lackeys had done much of his fighting for him there.

Here, though, it's like fighting his double, more so because he's not entirely used to the changes in this body yet. Ishimaru matches him strike for strike, high and low, as if he's familiar with all his attack patterns; and he gradually realizes that basic swordsmanship may not pull him through this. 

He may have to treat this like a real fight in order to win.

As he deflects Ishimaru's cuts and presses his own attack, he understands that what he's feeling is a difference in strength, not technique. His body's not as practiced here, and he doesn't have any of the enhancements to strength or speed from having his body possessed by demons. He's still fast and knows a lot about combat, but he used to be able to beat Tahou--Ishimaru easily. Now, it's not so easy, and he remembers Biwamaru telling him that his is a standard part of being human. Just human.

He ducks under a high vertical cut and uses the hilt of one sword to catch Ishimaru in the gut; he bends over, and Hyakkimaru uses the blunted edge of his other wooden sword to edge past Ishimaru's half-dropped guard and slice up, through the meat of his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Ishimaru hisses in pain and drops the sword from his injured arm.

Hyakkimaru takes a step back and grounds his footing, creating a more solid defense for Ishimaru's next attack, but it doesn't come. Ishimaru steps back as well, and bows.

"I yield," he says, putting his other sword on the ground. "Can't believe you beat me. Hasn't happened in ten years."

"I feel a little different today," Hyakkimaru says, because that's honest.

"Yeah, I noticed." He grimaces as he touches his injured shoulder. "I'm not sure I like it."

"C'mon," Hyakkimaru says. "I'll make you something that'll take the sting out of that. Then you can hunt me some turtledoves to take to mother."

"Sure," he says. He leans a little on Hyakkimaru as they start walking. "Where are you going, then?"

"To see the thief from this afternoon."

***

Hyakkimaru finds Dororo in a low underground space, lined with soft stone, that reeks of piss and shit; two guards stand at a narrow entrance, and there is no other way in or out. It seems that Daigo's procedure for locking people up is no different from what it used to be; he remembers it well enough from moving through the bowels of the palace as it had burned. 

Dororo stands shackled to a wall in the far left corner. There are two other prisoners in the room, both older men, also shackled; based on the reach of the chain, none of the prisoners can get close enough to one another to touch. Dororo doesn't move as he comes closer, and he thinks she might be asleep on her feet.

"Dororo," he breathes.

She looks up at him with such intense hatred that it feels like being flayed alive.

"How do you know my name?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "It's not important. Why are you here?"

She snorts. "You captured me, asshole. Why don't you tell me?"

"That's not what I meant," he says.

"Then what did you mean, fuckwit?"

"I meant," he says, "why are you here? In Enuma? This city?"

"Where else would I go? This place is the only one within fifty miles with food to spare. Not that you niggardly bastards will spare any."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I did bring you food. Here." He holds out two onigiri, wrapped in seaweed, that he'd grabbed from the kitchen on his way here. 

She stares at the food with interest, and it's the first familiar expression he's seen on her face. "Probably poison," she says, and makes no move to take the food. One of the other prisoners looks over at them with apparent interest, but he doesn't say anything.

Hyakkimaru takes a bite of one of the onigiri, and swallows. He hands her the rest.

She takes the onigiri, both the bitten one and the whole one, and her expression changes to one of wary suspicion. She inhales the first onigiri whole, then says with her mouth full: "If you're expecting any kind of, uh, repayment, you've got another thing coming."

"You owe me nothing," he says.

"Damn straight." She swallows, then looks him in the eye with a hawklike expression. "So, is this some sort of last meal or something? Before you hang me?"

"No one's going to hang you," he says.

"Aren't you Daigo-sama, lord of Kaga?" she asks sarcastically. "I stole your shit. Why wouldn't you hang me, or cut off my arms or something?"

"Daigo-sama is my father," he says. It feels strange to say it, but it's true, no matter what timeline he's in. "You stole from my wife. If you had stolen from my father instead, even I would not be able to save you from the consequences."

"Save me?" she asks. Her tone drips with contempt. "You feel sorry for me or somethin'? Don't. I don't need it. And I can help myself. Don't see how I'd ever need you for anything."

"Sorry. Poor choice of words."

She raises an eyebrow. "Did you just...apologize to me?" she snorts. "Weirdo."

He knows, consciously, that what he does here will have no lasting consequences; this is a hypothetical world prepared by Mizuha. He's still not about to let Dororo be executed--or starve. He still has to face her when he returns to his own world. "You...remind me of a friend," he says after a long pause. "That's why I want to help you. Even if you don't want it, or need it, I...want to help." 

Dororo cocks her head in confusion. "What happened to this friend of yours? They die or something?"

"...or something."

"How would you even help me?" she asks.

"By getting you out of here," he says. "And giving you a decent job."

Dororo looks down at the remains of the seaweed that wrapped her onigiri. She doesn't say anything else.

***

Hyakkimaru returns to his rooms after seeing Dororo. Hyougo is still outside, and he relieves him of his duties for the night and goes into his room for quiet contemplation. He needs to think.

Obviously, he doesn't really like himself as he is in this world. The clothes itch and are uncomfortable. He's a wimpy coward and not good at anything--except when he shatters everyone's expectations, acting completely unlike the person he is supposed to be. None of his old friends or allies are with him--except Dororo and Akiko. And he doesn't actually know them here. The person he would be lacking his current memories would never have spared Dororo. It is possible he would have resented Akiko's talent; he might not have singled her out for more training.

Daigo Tahoumaru-tono, heir apparent to the lordship of Kaga, would likely not have given either Dororo or Akiko a second glance.

However--leaving his visceral discomfort with himself aside--there are good things about this world that he has noticed. The kitchen is well-stocked, and the servants are fed and well-clothed, and for the most part seem to be treated well. Aside from the condition of the roads, the economic condition of Kaga seems fairly stable and prosperous. Kaga does not appear to be at war with anyone. Dororo is alive, and might still be free if his doppelganger had never noticed her stealing--and he probably wouldn't have, as incompetent as he seems.

There are worse things to be than a spoiled, rich, overgrown boy in a country at peace. If he can figure out the source of Kaga's prosperity, he might be able to bring some good ideas back with him. Or he might decide to choose this path. His single solitary life can't be worth the death and suffering of thousands of people.

While he's here, he needs to figure out more about the country's current state. He also has to focus on helping Dororo, since it's entirely his own fault that she got caught. He rummages in the drawers under his butsudan and finds what he's looking for: a pen and paper, to create a list of pros and cons of this reality, as well as the concrete facts that he knows about it for certain. 

He records his observations well into the night, until the gas lamp runs out of fuel and goes out. He falls asleep sitting upright in front of the butsudan, with a pen in his hand.


	19. The Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am surprised that you were able to see what I saw," Daigo says. 
> 
> Hyakkimaru looks up a little, saying nothing. Is he supposed to be terrible at math in this world, too?
> 
> "I know you are capable as an administrator," he says, reading his expression accurately for once. "I simply thought you would not care."
> 
> "Then why did you ask me here, father?" He stumbles over the last word, but he does manage to get it out.
> 
> "Because I wanted an excuse to raise the taxes, of course," he says. "The Takeda clan are restless, and that bandit on our border is causing tremendous strain. We may soon need every ryo."
> 
> "Then we can just get the corrupt officials to give us what they stole, and fix their mistakes."
> 
> "Yes, but then we make our retainers...irritated. Oh well. It can't be helped, in this case. The doctoring was very poorly done." He looks Hyakkimaru in the eye, and Hyakkimaru sees something like Kaguya's world-weariness there. He seems like a very ordinary man.
> 
> This Daigo hadn't sold Hyakkimaru to the demons. Somehow, he had pulled Kaga out of poverty and war, without sacrificing his son or his humanity at all.
> 
> But how? At what price?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for very temporary (and technically hypothetical) major character death, which is reversed by the end of the chapter.

"I'm thinking about making her my servant," Hyakkimaru tells Ishimaru on their way to the practice ground the next morning.

"Who? That thief we caught?" Ishimaru asks.

"Yes."

"You're kidding," Ishimaru says. "You can't possibly take in a thief. Father would never allow it," he says, and he sounds so sure that Hyakkimaru's shoulders collapse in on themselves of their own accord.

Tahoumaru tugs his sleeve. "That girl really got to you, huh?" he asks. "Is she pretty or something?"

"What? No! I mean, no, it's not like that." He feels himself blushing and forces himself to stand up straighter.

Ishimaru surveys him critically. "If you say so," he says. "Mother's a softer touch about that sort of thing, though. If you can convince her, father might allow you to keep her. At least for a little while."

"Did you get those turtledoves I asked for?"

"Yep. Getting plucked in the kitchen as we speak. You can talk to mother about the thief tonight." He runs a hand over his injured shoulder. "Say, can you show me how you got my guard down yesterday? It happened so fast, I didn't see how you did it."

"Sure."

"Also, have you just been pretending to be bad at swordsmanship this whole time?"

Hyakkimaru grins at him. "I was trying to lull you into a false sense of security. Did it work?"

Ishimaru opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. "I hate you."

Hyakkimaru smiles wider. "I know." He likes Ishimaru. Who'd have thought it?

***

After training with Ishimaru, Hyakkimaru asks Hyougo to send a dinner invitation to his mother, and Hyougo acquiesces without an instant of hesitation. 

"Tahoumaru killed some turtledoves for her," Hyakkimaru says.

"Well done, tono-sama. Her ladyship loves those."

In the same moment, Hyakkimaru realizes that he'd not only spoken in the third person, but had also claimed credit for his brother's hunting. He really is a jerk--though he's mainly just confused.

He's also never had a conversation with his mother that lasted for more than ten words on his part, so he has no idea how this is going to go. He just wants someone with some authority to let him save Dororo. He probably won't be allowed to set her free, not for a while, but he can at least keep her from being killed.

Maybe.

He gets dressed in fresh clothes, again with Hyougo's help, and while he doesn't want to stab the man through the face every time he sees him anymore, he's still not used to his continual presence in his life. He's never had a servant taking care of him before. Traveling companions are far less intrusive and irritating than this. 

He wonders if the person he would have been in this world actually likes Hyougo or not.

When he's done getting dressed, Hyougo goes to fetch his lunch, but Hyakkimaru calls him back. "Sorry, I, uh--" He doesn't know what to say. "I'm not hungry yet. I just--wanted to know about you."

Hyougo raises an eyebrow. "Me, tono-sama? Would you like me to remind you of the time when you and Ishimaru-dono saved my sister and I from certain death, even though we were on the wrong side of the conflict?"

"You were children," Hyakkimaru says. His world's Tahoumaru had revealed as much, after Hyakkimaru had saved Hyougo's life.

"As were you," Hyougo says. "Your compassion is limitless, tono-sama. It is as her ladyship always says: 'Tahoumaru will always save the person in front of him. No matter what.'"

Hyakkimaru snorts. "Does she really say that?" Like an echo in his mind, he remembers Kaguya calling him a bleeding heart, and Iwasa calling him a decent person--and another, fainter echo of the sentiment from Dororo that he tamps down on before it can fully surface.

Hyougo's eyes crinkle a little at the corners, but the rest of his expression is muted, almost sad. "You haven't seen her in quite some time," he says. "I think that it is an excellent idea to have dinner with her."

At that moment, there is a knock at the doorframe, and Hyougo opens the door. Mutsu is on the other side, kneeling, and she says, "Your mother requests that we invite your wife, Kyouko-sama, to supper as well, tono-sama," Mutsu says, a little out-of-breath.

Hyakkimaru doesn't really like that idea--he wants to talk to his mother about Dororo, after all--but he also doesn't want to slight his wife even more than he already has, because he doesn't know her story. If she's anything like the Kyouko from his world, she's undoubtedly had a harsh life. She'd also never betrayed him in this world, that he knows of, so there's no reason to go out of his way to be cruel to her.

"Fine," he says. "Is there anything she likes to eat that I should get?"

"Chestnuts, but we have them on hand," Hyougo says. "You are considerate of her lately. Did you have a change of heart?"

"Not exactly," he says, glancing over at the statue of the goddess of mercy on his butsudan. "Was I really so cruel to her?"

"You objected to the marriage by setting your room on fire, tono-sama."

That...does kind of sound like him. Dammit.

"I think I would have reacted that way for anyone," he mutters.

"Perhaps. But Kyouko-sama was married to Nobuhiro Asakusa, whom you beheaded. Your marriage was never expected to be a warm one, but..."

Hyakkimaru nods; this explanation squares with the notes he's been taking about the political situation of this world. He should really try to talk to Daigo himself at some point. "Wait, Asakura?" Not Kurakawa? What had happened to Kouhei?

"Your ancestral enemy, tono-sama? The Asakura clan?"

"Yes, yes. Right. Sorry. I...forgot for a second."

Hyougo clicks his tongue. "You were always somewhat poor at history."

***

He gets to see Daigo sooner than he'd anticipated: his father summons him just after lunch to talk with the administrator he'd blown off the previous day. He travels to the other side of the palace compound, meeting Ishimaru as they head in the same direction.

"I wonder if the taxes will increase again," Ishimaru says. "I've told father that the smaller villages can't take it, what with all the raids from that bandit and the flooding in spring, but...well, those are minor issues compared to what other provinces have to deal with, I guess."

Hyakkimaru nods in understanding. Tahoumaru is telling him what Kaga's weak points are, and almost all involve infrastructure and administration. When he considers the person he's supposed to be, he wishes that Tahoumaru were the elder brother instead. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders. 

"I'll tell Dai--father what you said," Hyakkimaru says. "I don't really want to increase the taxes, either."

Ishimaru raises an eyebrow. "That's a first, but I appreciate it." He knocks shoulders with him briefly. "What's gotten into you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's like...you listen to people. You don't run away from things that need attention. I'm really starting to wonder if that cold aloof ani-ue older brother crap was all an act." He catches himself swearing and bites his tongue.

Hyakkimaru smiles at him, and hopes that provides some reassurance. "I guess I act a lot like D--father, huh."

"Not lately, you don't," Ishimaru says. "But I'm not sure I mind the change."

Ishimaru bows to him outside of Daigo's rooms and leaves. Hyakkimaru enters to find Daigo seated next to a low table with an unpleasant-looking man in a large black hat seated on the opposite side of him. Hyakkimaru remembers to bow when he enters, but it feels alien--even more alien than seeing Daigo without a fretwork of frown lines cut into his forehead.

Daigo, cured of bitterness. It's an odd sight. The mark of crossed lightning is still there in the middle of his forehead, though, meaning that he had made a deal. Hyakkimaru wonders what he'd sold to the demons this time.

"You sent for me?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"Yes," Daigo says, beckoning him over to the table. He has a stack of papers that look like budget reports, based on the columns of numbers. "This is Ishikawa-dono, cousin to your mother and administrator of the province." 

Hyakkimaru kneels down and nods to the Ishikawa lord in recognition. Then he takes a look at the numbers in front of him.

It doesn't take him long to spot discrepancies. Reports filled out with rougher handwriting probably come from the rural clerks, and he takes their reports as honest, for a start. There are layers of compiled reports that use those numbers, but few of the higher-level reports use the source numbers faithfully; usually, the errors are small--a few sen here, a ryo there--but there are definitely errors.

Hyakkimaru points these out to Daigo without saying anything, and Daigo nods at him. "Then we are in agreement," he says. He appears pleased. "Ishikawa-dono, we will not be increasing taxes at this time. Instead, I ask you to remit this remainder," Daigo says, pointing to a number that looks rather large, "to our palace within the next fortnight. 

"I also recommend replacing your clerks," Daigo says. "I suspect they are stealing from you."

Ishikawa blanches, but nods. "Daigo-sama." He gathers up the budget reports, then bows and exits the room, leaving Hyakkimaru and Daigo alone. 

Hyakkimaru also moves to get up, but Daigo asks him to remain sitting.

"I am surprised that you were able to see what I saw," Daigo says. 

Hyakkimaru looks up a little, saying nothing. Is he supposed to be terrible at math in this world, too?

"I know you are capable as an administrator," he says, reading his expression accurately for once. "I simply thought you would not care."

"Then why did you ask me here, father?" He stumbles over the last word, but he does manage to get it out.

"Because I wanted an excuse to raise the taxes, of course," he says. "The Takeda clan are restless, and that bandit on our border is causing tremendous strain. We may soon need every ryo."

"Then we can just get the corrupt officials to give us what they stole, and fix their mistakes."

"Yes, but then we make our retainers...irritated. Oh well. It can't be helped, in this case. The doctoring was very poorly done." He looks Hyakkimaru in the eye, and Hyakkimaru sees something like Kaguya's world-weariness there. He seems like a very ordinary man.

This Daigo hadn't sold Hyakkimaru to the demons. Somehow, he had pulled Kaga out of poverty and war, without sacrificing his son or his humanity at all.

But how? At what price?

"Is that all, father?" he asks. It's easier to say it again, though he certainly doesn't want to get into the habit of it. 

"No," Daigo says. He glances at Hyakkimaru sidelong, and Hyakkimaru kneels in front of him again. "I have heard some...unusual things about you, lately."

Hyakkimaru gulps but says nothing.

"Hyougo tells me you are being kinder to your wife," he says. "That is commendable, if not entirely expected. He also tells me you spared a common thief from punishment. Is this true?"

Hyakkimaru looks down, and nods.

"Hm." Daigo reaches out to him and lifts his chin to make Hyakkimaru look at him, and the gesture is so sudden and natural-seeming that Hyakkimaru feels like he's jumped out of his skin; it takes all his years of self-discipline not to pull away on reflex.

"Why the change of heart, son?"

Hyakkimaru shrugs, and uses the movement to inch away from Daigo's hand at his jawline. "I was considering how to make Kaga a better place," he says.

"That is vague. Better how?"

"I need an heir, and want the land to prosper," he says, spouting the usual line and hoping Daigo will buy it. He's heard similar enough speeches from Dororo in the past. "Being cruel to my wife and cracking down harshly on our people did not seem to be the right way to go about that."

"Hm," Daigo says again. "Your thinking is sound, but not many people are capable of so completely changing themselves overnight." Daigo puts a hand on his shoulder. "I am proud of you for owning your responsibility."

Hyakkimaru feels tears, bright and hot, forming behind his eyes. He hadn't expected this: having Daigo treat him kindly, like something he hadn't thrown away for the sake of the same power and prosperity that Hyakkimaru had just paid lip service to. 

He is forced to consider that this is a world where his parents love him--despite some deeply obvious character flaws.

He rejects the idea as impossible.

He steadies his thoughts, and says, "Please excuse me. I have not yet eaten, and I must prepare for dinner with mother."

"Of course. I'm sorry I won't be able to join you. I'll be out with the scouts to bring in a merchant caravan this evening. Please give your mother my greetings."

"I will." He won't. 

Hyakkimaru excuses himself, and as the rice paper door closes behind him, he lets out an enormous, gulping breath. He bends over, hands on his thighs, and just stands there for a moment, stunned.

This isn't the way things are supposed to be. 

Is it?

***

Hyakkimaru doesn't eat. He goes to the practice yard to exercise out some of his anxiety. The ground is still too wet from the previous day's rain for him to train there, so he goes to the indoor dojo again, finding it deserted except for Akiko, running sword strike drills. She looks up as he enters.

He asks her to spar, and she nods cautiously. 

They warm up by striking their two swords in symmetrical patterns along the four corners of his field of vision, and it's relaxing. Hyakkimaru remembers doing this with his world's Akiko, and for a few moments his world starts making sense again.

Then the strikes become less regular and measured, and faster, and he has to focus on maintaining his guard so that Akiko's strikes don't break through. He focuses on just that for a while, not attacking, just blocking her strikes and maintaining the rhythm of the strikes as they speed up.

"Are you gonna attack me or not?" Akiko asks after a while. Her forehead is beaded with sweat.

"I haven't decided yet."

She frowns at him, and her strikes become even faster and more erratic; she loses her grip on one sword, and Hyakkimaru uses the opening in her guard to push her over his leg and send her sprawling to the floor before she can blink.

"You are amazing, tono-sama," she says as she retrieves her fallen sword. "Have you fought in many battles?"

"Yes." No. He doesn't remember what he's done in this world.

She nods enthusiastically. "I cannot wait for my first battle," she says. "You have given me the opportunity. You, and Kaguya-sama. I am grateful."

Hyakkimaru prefers the Akiko who swore a blue streak and respected nothing. He misses Iwasa. He wants to see Dororo, but that's probably not a good idea until after he talks to his mother.

"I pray you never have to fight in battle," he says. "If you do, it means I failed to keep you safe."

She looks at him with a little frown. "Isn't it the purpose of your retainers to keep you safe, tono-sama?" She gets up and enters ready stance, and the two of them settle into a slow and easy practice rhythm again.

Hyakkimaru blocks one of her high strikes and brings it down with a smooth swooping motion. "The way I see it," he says, "we are supposed to protect one another. The responsibility for any war we enter, though, lies with me." Or will, when Daigo dies.

Despite the crushing weight of that kind of responsibility, Hyakkimaru finds that he doesn't really mind the idea of being in charge of when Kaga goes to war, or when its taxes increase. He'd had a similar kind of power with Konzo--though Iwasa had also had a significant say. And Konzo is not nearly as large as Kaga. He could make a difference here--as himself, and not the dolt he's known as, anyway.

He decides to believe in his own potential. 

Hyakkimaru finishes sparring with Akiko some time later. He puts his practice swords away and looks at Akiko, whose face is still red from exertion. "You have a long life ahead of you," he says. "Don't waste it chasing after glory."

He leaves, and goes to get himself cleaned up before dinner. 

***

Hyougo suggests that he go clean himself in the hot springs on the grounds before going to dinner, and Hyakkimaru is glad of the suggestion. He may have overdone things a little with Akiko, but his thoughts are much clearer, and being physically tired makes it harder for him to be anxious.

Hot water is also a luxury that he hadn't gotten to indulge in much on during his life on the road. He scrubs dirt from under his nails and scratches the itch out of his hair and reflects that there are some nice benefits to wealth and privilege. A bath like this would be wasted on him ordinarily--he'd just get bloody and filthy again immediately. Not so here.

The new clothes still itch even after he's clean, though.

He returns to his rooms, and Hyougo insists on changing him again because he'd gotten his clothes slightly damp at the hot spring. He refuses. "It's fine," Hyakkimaru says. "No one will notice."

Hyougo clicks his tongue, but doesn't make him change clothes again. He makes his way to Daigo's side of the palace complex, figuring that his father and mother probably live close together in this place. He could ask someone, but that would be revealing more ignorance that he has no way to explain.

He wishes he could pray to Mizuha from here, sometimes.

He turns a corner past the room where he'd met Daigo earlier, into a hallway decorated with wide silk screens rippling with embroidery that catches and shines in the dim light of evening. It certainly looks like a feminine space, so he starts walking toward the door, hoping he won't be surprising a mistress instead of his mother.

He knocks on the doorframe at the end of the silk-screened hall, and a servant opens the door. His mother and Kyouko are already sitting inside the room, his mother in a familiar green kimono, Kyouko in a formal furisode, black and green, probably for mourning by the look of it. 

He enters and sits, and Kyouko begins portioning out rice and greens into bowls while chopped meat cooks on a low fire above the room's irori. It's a bit smoky, but warm and comfortable. Hyakkimaru winds up conveying Daigo's greetings because he can't think of anything else to say, and Nui no Kata smiles fondly at him.

"He would say that," Nui no Kata says. "Always busy with his spies and his hunting...I suppose with the season getting late, he's trying to avoid cabin fever." She sighs. "I wish I could do the same."

"You want to go outside?" he asks. "Why?"

"Many reasons. Mushroom picking. Finding flax. Exploring." She smiles. "Kyouko-san, would you like to go mushroom-picking with me next month?"

Kyouko looks startled, but nods.

"I...thought you said you couldn't go?" Hyakkimaru asks, confused.

"I can't; not alone, and not without advance notice to the household," Nui no Kata says. "But you'll go with us...won't you?"

Her eyes are soft and open and kind, and in the end he doesn't have it in him to disappoint her; not over such a trivial request. He nods, and she claps her hands together like a little child.

"Invite your brother, too," she says. "We can make a day of it. I'll pack us lunch. Oh, I'm looking forward to it already."

Like Daigo, this world's Nui no Kata seems perfectly ordinary. Losing her child and choosing her husband over him must have driven her crazy in his world; there is no hint of madness in her now. He likes her, though he also feels sorry for her: she has so little freedom compared to Daigo. That's something that hasn't changed between his old world and this one.

Dororo must be similarly constrained. He'll have to think of more ways of breaking her out of this gilded samurai cage.

Dinner continues, but the topic of conversation never quite turns in the direction he wants it to. His mother asks about his brother, the taxes, Daigo's errands, and a number of things he only has passing familiarity with; Kyouko looks across the table at him and keeps his plate full of food. 

Finally, Hyakkimaru breaks in on a discussion about new horseshoes for the warhorses before winter and says, "M-mother, I--there's something I want to talk about."

"Oh?" she looks surprised.

"Ishimaru and I intercepted a thief in Kyouko's wagon train. Yesterday."

"Yes, I heard about that," Kyouko says. "Do you wish the thief executed, then?"

"No," Hyakkimaru says, a little too emphatically. "I want her spared. She stole because she was starving. I hoped that you might give her a place, mother, but even if you do not, I think the kind thing would be to let her go."

Nui no Kata nods in understanding. "This thief--what did she steal?"

"Food," Hyakkimaru says. "Two peaches."

"Is that all?" Nui no Kata asks airily. "Then of course you may release her. I have no need for an additional servant, so you may dispose of her as you wish."

"Thank you, mother." He bows a little, then glances up at Kyouko. "Of course, I will reimburse you for anything stolen," he says.

Kyouko places a hand over her heart and puts her chin to her chest in a pose of gratitude. 

***

Nui no Kata gives Hyakkimaru a master key for the dungeon prisoners. Then he and Kyouko clean up the remnants of dinner. It's full dark outside now, so after the dinner dishes are piled on a tray for easy delivery back to the kitchen, Kyouko begins lighting the lamps in Nui no Kata's room. Hyakkimaru also tries to help, though he's clumsy at it.

The corners of the room are burnished bright with artificial light, leaving portions of the room in shadow. Hyakkimaru bows a little. Kyouko picks up the tray of dishes and also bows. Hyakkimaru opens the door for Kyouko, and Nui no Kata says: "Mushroom-picking. Tell your brother, and don't forget."

"I won't," he says. "I promise." He and Kyouko step out into the hall. He takes an extra bowl of rice off of Kyouko's tray to take to Dororo, and immediately starts walking towards Daigo's dungeon.

Kyouko calls out to him from behind. "Tahoumaru-dono," she says. "I have misjudged you. Forgive me."

Hyakkimaru turns back to her and shrugs. "Don't worry about it, Kyouko-sama. I haven't treated you all that well, to be honest, and the fault lies with me."

"You have shown incredible generosity of spirit since I have come here," she says. "You elevated a female guard of my household. Argued to save the life of a thief. Personally involved yourself with my own welfare. I--" She looks down. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything," he says. "Really."

Kyouko stares at him suspiciously. "I find your words difficult to credit," she says diplomatically, "but I will accept them, for the sake of peace between us. Perhaps you will join me for tea tomorrow?"

 _No_ , he thinks automatically. Freeing Dororo is his top priority, now that he has permission--and a key. "I'm busy tomorrow, I'm sorry. How about the day after?"

Kyouko offers him a weak smile. "Very well, then, Tahoumaru-dono." She excuses herself, still carrying the tray of dinner dishes, and Hyakkimaru stands in the hallway for a few seconds wondering what the hell he's doing.

Going mushroom-picking with his mother. Having tea with his wife. How is this his life? 

This is happening because he doesn't like disappointing people. Even people he doesn't know very well, apparently.

Maybe it's because he was born a disappointment.

He shoves that thought aside, and walks briskly toward the dungeon with his mother's key in his hand. He knows this world isn't really real and that the consequences of what he does here won't ultimately matter, but he still thinks it's important for Dororo to be free, regardless of the timeline. He can right the wrong of her imprisonment, at least.

He doesn't want to disappoint her, either.

***

It's dark when he reaches the dungeon, and no one had bothered to light any torches or lamps here. He's not very familiar with this place yet, so he fumbles around a bit with the key to the lower room. Once inside, he finds two guards that look sleepy; both recognize him and let him pass without a fuss. The prisoners all appear to be asleep, including Dororo, who is snoring. He takes a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness so that he can check her for injuries before letting her go.

Her hands are bruised and rough with abrasions. There's a bruise on her face that looks new. Based on how evenly she's breathing, she doesn't have any internal injuries; the damage is mainly superficial. Then he glances down at her feet, and the sight makes him wince.

There's a long gash, perhaps four inches long and half an inch wide, on the sole of her left foot. It is swollen yellow-green with infection and puss, and is still bleeding slightly. The flesh of the surrounding foot has already darkened a bit: it looks like the early stages of gangrene. If he cleans the foot and keeps it bandaged and elevated, she might be okay.

Worst-case scenario, she loses the foot.

"Dororo, you idiot," he mutters.

Her eyelids flutter open, and she immediately jumps to her feet and puts her guard up, ready to fight. She squints, then says. "Huh. You again. What do you want?"

"I came to let you out of here," he says, jangling the key.

"Great," she says. "Thanks. What's the catch?"

"No catch," he says. "Except..." He has to get her foot treated. He can't just let her walk away like this. The condition of Dororo's injuries is severe; she doesn't need immediate treatment, but she needs good medical care soon. He wants to see if Jukai is still alive. Jukai could fix this easily, and he'd have all the ingredients for a poultice to treat gangrene on hand.

He has two days before he has to fulfill any obligations to anyone else--that he knows of, at least. He decides to make the best use of that time. 

He unlocks the shackles on her hands. Then he hands Dororo the bowl of rice he'd brought, and she starts eating without so much as a 'thank you.' While she eats, he says, "We're going to see a doctor."

"Why?" she asks suspiciously.

"Your foot is infected," he says, "and I don't have the medicine to treat it."

She shrugs. "It's looked like that for years; I don't know why you care."

"You're lying," he says, "and I care because I don't want you dropping dead on me."

She snorts. "Yeah, not until you've used me up, right?"

He frowns. "Listen. The problem with your feet is called infection, which can become sepsis. You're young and healthy otherwise, which is why this hasn't killed you yet, but it will if you don't get it treated. You could lose your foot. Do you understand?"

She tilts her head in confusion. "I understand that my feet are fucked up," she says. "I didn't know there was any way to fix it, though."

"There's a doctor I used to know. He can fix it if you follow me," he says. "Do you want me to carry you?" He probably should, to prevent the damage from getting worse.

"No," she says. The answer is definite. "Never. What am I, five? Lead the way, samurai asshole."

"...I'm gonna ignore that," he says as he faces the door of the dungeon.

"I knew you would," she says. "You're soft on me, mister. But if you touch me, I'll break your hand."

"Understood," he says as he adjusts course slightly to avoid a sucking pool of mud directly in his path.

"Weirdo," she mutters under her breath.

***

They reach Jukai's hut during the late afternoon of the next day. Cold rain falls in fat drops as they make their approach, but Hyakkimaru is encouraged when he notices that there is light coming from inside the hut.

He knocks on the door, and Jukai opens it, his face older than Hyakkimaru remembers. He sees Jukai's old tools and prosthetic works hanging up on pegs behind him and thinks, _I'm home._

"Hello?" Jukai asks.

Hyakkimaru stands there, stunned stupid for a few seconds because Jukai is here. He isn't dead. He can help save Dororo and _he's not dead_ , which means the only reason he's dead in Hyakkimaru's own world is because of him.

The realization hits him hard for a moment, but he has come here for a purpose, and he hasn't forgotten it. "I was told that a doctor lives here," he says. "This woman needs help."

"I do not," Dororo complains.

Jukai looks from Hyakkimaru to Dororo with a slightly confused expression, but he ushers them in, out of the rain. Hyakkimaru enters, and immediately goes to the cabinet in the corner where the herbs are kept: he grabs mint and powdered clove for disinfection and a few other herbs to act as analgesics to bring down the pain and swelling, then draws down a fresh cloth from the laundry cabinet and starts making a poultice.

"Make yourself at home," Jukai says.

Hyakkimaru realizes what he's doing and looks up at Jukai, a little sheepishly.

"Have you been here before? You seem to know your way around."

"Yes," he says. He's uncomfortable lying to Jukai. "I've been here before...but it's been a long time."

Jukai walks over him and observes his mixture of herbs, into which he's decided to mix honey: it's also a disinfectant and will help the treatment stay on Dororo's feet longer. He finishes mixing the ingredients, and Jukai sprinkles finely shredded bark on top of it.

Hyakkimaru frowns at him. "What's that for?"

"It seems like you're afraid of septic shock," Jukai says. "That was willow bark. For pain. And to regulate the bleeding, if there is any."

That's a good idea. As expected of Jukai. "Dororo," he says, glancing around the room. "Where is she?"

"She asked if she could bring in water," Jukai says. "I did not notice the condition of her feet. She bears pain well."

"She's an idiot," he mutters, and collapses onto one of the low cushions next to Jukai's table. Jukai takes a seat across from him.

"So, you're a doctor," he says.

"What makes you say that?"

"This poultice was well-made," Jukai says quietly. "Who taught you to make it?"

"I...guess I just knew." No one had ever taught him anything about medicine except Jukai.

Jukai frowns hard. "Who are you, then?"

"Hyak--Daigo Tahoumaru," he says, automatically correcting himself thanks to days of giving and signing his name in front of dignitaries and family members that know him as Tahoumaru.

Jukai stands suddenly and puts his back to the wall, terrified, and Hyakkimaru stands too, putting his hands up to reveal that he's not holding a weapon currently and presents no threat. "Daigo Kagemitsu did not send me," he says. "I really am just looking for a doctor."

Jukai takes a step away from the wall, but doesn't sit again. He says, "But _you_ are a doctor--though I find it somewhat difficult to believe. Where would you learn such things, in Daigo's palace? What samurai lord would--"

The door opens, revealing Dororo drenched to the skin and holding a small barrel. Jukai accepts it from her, and Hyakkimaru pulls a blanket down from the linen cupboard and hands it to her without a word.

She wraps the blanket around her shoulders and shakes a little, like a dog shedding water. 

"You're gonna catch a cold," Hyakkimaru says.

She shrugs. "Least of my problems."

Hyakkimaru asks her to sit so he can examine her feet, and she grumbles in nonsense words until Jukai says, "You look feverish."

"I do?" The observation catches her off-guard.

"Yes," he says. "Please sit." He indicates the cushion he'd previously been sitting on, then snatches the poultice and cloth from Hyakkimaru. 

He begins applying the herbs, and Dororo hisses like she's being stung. Hyakkimaru's hands twitch, but he doesn't object. Jukai is the doctor here, after all.

"My feet feel all tingly," Dororo says, wiggling her toes. "Hey! It--it doesn't hurt anymore," she says. She peers into the small bowl Hyakkimaru had mixed the ingredients in. "What's in that stuff?"

"Herbs to prevent infection, and temporarily relieve pain," Jukai says.

Dororo slumps. "So the pain will come back?"

"Yes, until this heals. However," he says, lifting the foot with the severe gash, "if you stay here overnight, I can make a thick bandage which should protect this well enough for you to not lose the foot."

Dororo glances up at Hyakkimaru. "So samurai bastard wasn't lying," she mutters.

"This samurai is named Tahoumaru-san, and he saved your life by coming here."

"I bet he paid you to say that."

"Doctors don't need money," Jukai says with a hint of exasperation. "I will make you a tea with chamomile, jasmine and lavender. It should help you sleep." 

Jukai guides her over to one of his guest futons, and she stretches out. Hyakkimaru puts the water on for tea, but lets Jukai assemble the ingredients. The room is silent save for the crackle of fire in the irori and the gentle sound of falling rain on the roof.

The water boils, and Jukai brings Dororo her tea. Then he turns to Hyakkimaru. "You are welcome to a futon as well," he says.

"Thank you. I'm not tired."

Jukai puts his chin in his hand. "You should never lie to a doctor, son," he says. "I suspect the real reason you reject my offer is that you cannot sleep."

"Yes."

"Why are you anxious?"

He shrugs, then asks softly, "Do you really think her foot will be okay?"

"Given sufficient time, I don't see why not," he says. "If she is your servant, you should have the authority to keep her off her feet for a few days."

Hyakkimaru's hand brushes over his forehead, halting at the still-unfamiliar topknot. "I'm...not actually her lord."

"Oh?"

"She's a thief."

"Yet you save her anyway. Strange. But compassionate. The Buddha might approve."

"She won't let me carry her," he grumbles. "I'll need to make an actual salve, I think, so I can reapply it when it rubs off. And I need to think of somewhere to go...but I also have to get back..."

"A salve is a good idea," Jukai breaks in. "Tell me--I am curious--how does a son of Daigo Kagemitsu come to know about Chinese medicine?"

He glances over at Dororo. Her breathing is deep, like she's at least half-asleep. She doesn't appear to be listening.

This is all an image of a hypothetical world and none of this actually matters. Knowing all that, he still can't lie to Jukai. "You...taught me."

Jukai raises both eyebrows.

"I can't explain it to you easily," he says. "Maybe it was a dream but...I floated down the river as a baby. You found me, raised me, taught me everything I know. You're my father, Jukai."

At hearing his name, Jukai's shoulders go rigid, and he places his back against the far wall, getting as far from Hyakkimaru as possible in the confined space. "What are you?" he asks. "A demon? A monster? A spirit?"

"A little of all three," Hyakkimaru admits. "But...there is a world where...where I was your son."

Jukai takes a harsh breath. "You...but...isn't that impossible?"

"Yes," Hyakkimaru says. "Me being here right now, whole and well, in Kaga while it's at peace, seems more impossible every day. There's got to be catch."

Jukai frowns. "You talk as if the Kaga you know is different."

"It is," he says. "I wish..." He looks up at the sky. "I wish I could still kill demons. I have the strangest feeling that one of them has to be behind all this, but ever since I woke up here everyone treats me like I'm helpless and need constant looking after."

"You don't appear very helpless to me," Jukai says with a little smile.

"You also taught me how to fight."

"Did I?" Jukai says. "How did I teach you?"

"With two short swords," Hyakkimaru says. 

Jukai nods thoughtfully for a moment. He glances over at Dororo, who definitely appears to be sleeping, and goes outside. He returns shortly, carrying two swords that Hyakkimaru recognizes; he gets to his feet, a little excited.

Jukai holds the swords up and away from him. "Tell me, Daigo-san," he says, "which one of these is the sword that kills demons?"

Hyakkimaru points to the sword Jukai carries in his left hand. He would recognize it anywhere, for all that the hilt is plain and the blade looks ordinary; there is a strange green-gray sheen to the metal that makes it perfectly distinguishable from any other sword he's ever seen.  
  
Jukai hands him the sword. Hyakkimaru accepts it, wordlessly, and offers Jukai one of his own ordinary swords in its place. Jukai looks it over critically, and shrugs in acceptance.

"A good weapon," he says, "but not as treasured as the sword I have given you. I ask you to use it well."

"I will," Hyakkimaru says. "But...why give it to me at all?"

"You asked for a way to kill demons," he says. "I think you must have killed them before. You speak strangely, but I suspect that you are...something not of this world. Not evil, but not fully present here, either." 

He pauses. "You are a good doctor. I suspect you are also a good fighter. And I am old. I have no need of weapons blessed by gods any longer."

Hyakkimaru puts the demon-killing sword in his empty sheath, and feels a sense of completion that he hadn't experienced since becoming whole for the first time. "Thank you."

Dororo shifts in her sleep, and Hyakkimaru goes to her side without thinking about it, kneeling next to her and moving her tea tray so she won't knock it as she thrashes around. She grabs his hand, tight enough for bones to pop, and he shakes her off.

"Thought you said you'd break my hand if I touched you," he mutters as he extricates himself.

"I'm touching you, idiot," she says. She sits up, fully awake, and says, "I thought you'd abandon me or something."

That is probably what he should do. His main goal had been to get her free and clear of Daigo's palace, hadn't it? Well, yes. But Jukai's house is less than a day's walk from the palace in good weather; she could still get herself into trouble, staying this close. And her feet are in no condition for travel until they heal more.

"You still can't walk," he says. "I won't leave you until I know you can run away."

She gives up on trying to catch his hand and rests her head on his shoulder. "You're nice, for a samurai asshole."

He squirms a little away from her. "That's the kindest thing you've ever said to me," he says.

"I'm a bitch. Surely you've realized that by now."

"Go back to sleep. I'll fight with you more in the morning."

"I'll hold you to that."

She settles back onto her futon and goes back to sleep. Hyakkimaru looks up to find Jukai smiling faintly at him.

"You like her," he says.

He nods hesitantly, and returns to the kitchen, where he can whisper to Jukai and be heard. "She is--was--my friend."

"I see," Jukai says. "She does not remember you as a friend. Is there any way to return you to your Kaga? Your world?"

"Yes," he says. But when he goes back, he'll have to accept that he's killing Jukai. Jukai has to die because of him.

"You--don't want to return?"

"I have to," he says tensely, and Jukai nods.

"I hope you find peace, Daigo-san."

"Call me Hyakkimaru. Please."

"Why? It is not your name."

"It was--in the other world." _It was what you named me_ , he thinks but doesn't say.

Jukai looks thoughtful. "You say I was your father," he says.

"You were," he says.

"Hyakkimaru," he says with a nod. "You must have had a difficult life, for me to give you such a name. If you ever return this way, I will do all I can to help you. I promise."

Jukai is a saint in every universe. This should not surprise him. "Thank you."

Jukai nods, then gestures to one of the guest futons. "Now, sleep."

***

Hyakkimaru needs to be back at the palace by the evening of the next day if he's going to make his meeting with Kyouko. He feels the urgency to return, not because of this meeting specifically, but because if he misses that meeting, people will come looking for him. He's fairly certain who'll be sent: Oosuji and Kurakawa.

He'd rather avoid that. 

He wakes up before dawn to find Jukai also awake, and boiling water for tea or medicine. He nods at Hyakkimaru in acknowledgement, and indicates four fresh rice cakes and dried fish on the table. "I thought you might want something to eat, before you go."

"Thank you," he says. "For everything."

Jukai smiles at him, easy and familiar. "You as well."

"Me?"

"I always feared that I would leave this world without an apprentice to carry on my knowledge," he says. "I feel better about my life, knowing that someone else shares my love of medicine."

"You--had an apprentice, once. Didn't you?"

"I told you about that, did I? I must have been your father." He chuckles. "I wouldn't have told anyone else." He sighs. "Kaname knew only a little of herbs, but much about broken bones and crushed limbs. You can imagine, with his experience."

Hyakkimaru nods. He suddenly wants to confess to Jukai, lay everything out on the table: Daigo's deal, the demons, his false body, Jukai's sacrifice. It wells up in him like a geyser about to erupt, but he pushes it down.

He had realized as soon as he'd seen Jukai that he's responsible for his premature death. Jukai doesn't deserve to have that burden placed on him. Hyakkimaru's already asked too much of him as it is.

"I'll save as many people as I can," he says. "I promise."

Dororo mutters something in her sleep, then rolls over and opens her eyes blearily. "Where am I?"

"The doctor," Hyakkimaru says. He picks up a rice cake and a strip of fish from the table and hands them to her. "Eat."

"No need to tell me twice." She inhales her food in what looks like four bites and asks, "Is there more?"

In the end, he gives her all four rice cakes and most of the fish jerky. Jukai wraps her foot in several layers of bandages as she eats. When he's completed this task, Dororo sits up and stretches extravagantly, glancing sidelong at Hyakkimaru as he puts his pack on and folds up his futon. "Are we leaving already?" She pouts.

"I need to get back to the palace before they send the hounds out," he says.

"So? Why can't I stay here? I like it here."

"I don't trust you to take care of your feet until they heal," he says. "And the doctor needs beds for more patients." He turns to Jukai. "I hate to trouble you again, but do you have any warashi to spare? She has no shoes."

Jukai gestures toward the entryway, where pair of straw sandals has already been laid out. Hyakkimaru nods, then pulls Dororo to her feet. "Put on those," he says. "And walk in front of me."

"I feel like a hostage," she complains.

"You won't be when you can run away," he says. "That's my goal."

"Really? All right, then." She limps over to the sandals, wincing a little with each step, but she slips the sandals on over her bandages without much difficulty or fuss. Hyakkimaru follows her out the door. He bows to Jukai.

Jukai bows back.

***

Dororo walks out in front of him for most of the morning, on the road. Hyakkimaru doesn't usually travel by road, since a direct route following rivers or cutting through mountains is faster, but Dororo's feet can't handle more underbrush, and he's afraid that if they try it she'll ruin her sandals. It's tortuously slow going...especially since Dororo talks the entire time.

"So, how did you know that guy?"

"I didn't," he says. "I just knew there was a doctor in the area, is all."

"Liar. I heard you talking. You called him your father," she says, and glances back at him thoughtfully. "It would explain why you're less of an asshole than other samurai, but I think your dad would flip his gourd if that were true."

He had been foolish enough to tell Jukai the truth--and Jukai had been kindhearted enough to believe him, to a certain extent. Maybe he should tell Dororo, too.

"I'm--not from here. I come from somewhere else."

"Where?" she asks.

"Another version of this world," he says, "where Daigo abandoned me, and I was raised by that doctor."

"Uh huh, not really following but...if you're from someplace way different and had a different life, how did you end up here?"

"A god sent me here in a dream."

"You're delusional," she says gently. "At least you aren't cruel. Most of the crazies I've known would find a way to kill you with a spoon."

"You think I'm crazy?"

"It's the simplest explanation," she says. "So, crazy samurai non-asshole, where are we going, and why?"

"As to that," he says, "It's..." Then he breaks off when he hears something whistle through the trees above his head. An arrow? A bird?

He looks up, and sees the face of Takeda Iwasa grinning down at him from the trees. He's got a nocked arrow pointed directly at his chest.

"Uh," Hyakkimaru says, suddenly remembering what Daigo had said about bandits on the road. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asks, because Iwasa doesn't know him in this world.

"Takeda Iwasa," he says with a jaunty grin. "Thief, bandit, and highwayman extraordinaire. Since you're the heir to the Daigo clan, I'll be kidnapping you today. I hope you don't mind."

"Yeah, about that," Hyakkimaru says. He draws his right sword and hurls it at Iwasa for a distraction, then draws the other blade. Iwasa fires, but he deflects it, then pauses briefly to pick up his fallen weapon.

"Dororo, get behind me," he says.

Dororo makes a sort of muffled snort, but she gets behind him.

"You're quick," Iwasa says as he draws another arrow. "Let's see if you can do it again."

Hyakkimaru backs up a little, runs, leaps into the tree--and barely makes it, arms snaking around a branch as he tries to find his balance with his swords still in his hands. Iwasa is now only a foot or so above him, and he fires at point-blank range.

Hyakkimaru brings his swords close to his body in the shape of a cross to knock the arrow off-course. It works, but the arrow still gets through his guard enough for the point to graze his stomach.

Iwasa jumps down from the tree, onto the ground, and Hyakkimaru follows him as he readies another arrow.

"A little help, here!" he yells to Dororo.

"What do you expect me to do?" she asks, and Hyakkimaru realizes that she can't fight with weapons here. She hadn't been taught.

Damn it.

"Don't worry, miss," Iwasa says. "I'm not after you, so you can go on your way."

"No thanks," she says as Hyakkimaru inches closer to them. "My feet hurt, and this is...entertaining."

Iwasa drops his bow and draws his own sword, a plain heavy thing covered in nicks and gouges. Hyakkimaru puts his weapons up, and Iwasa does the same, and he attacks.

Hyakkimaru is more accustomed to seeing Iwasa using a gun, or dagger; swords had not been his forte, though he'd hardly been terrible at them. To his relief, this world's Iwasa seems to have similar capabilities to what he remembers: he gets his guard down without trouble, and uses the hilts of his weapons to pummel his chest so that he falls with his arms out, barely holding on to his weapon. Hyakkimaru crouches over Iwasa with one sword at his throat, and he hesitates.

He doesn't want to kill Iwasa. "Where are your men?" he asks. They must be nearby; it seems unlikely for a bandit leader to be traveling alone.

Iwasa lets out a short whistle, and three men materialize out of the trees. He recognizes two of them as Iwasa's cousins; men who had supported his brother in the Takeda rebellion of this world.

The remaining man--not much more than a boy--is unmistakably Tarou.

Tears spring to the corners of his eyes. It's too much. Everyone he knows and values is alive here--and he forgets, for a moment, that they're not all his friends.

He understands what must have happened. Iwasa had been stationed at the gate of the temple that had burned. Akiko and Tarou must have wandered out. Instead of killing them, he'd taken them along with his mercenary band. 

Akiko is in service to Takeshitsu Kaguya.

That means that there are spies in Daigo's castle, working for the bandits.

Hyakkimaru finds he doesn't mind the idea of that at all. He only wishes he'd figured it out sooner.

"Let him go," Tarou says sternly, and it is only then that he notices that all three men have bows trained on him. 

"You can't kill me before I kill him," Hyakkimaru says neutrally. "So let's compromise. You put down your bows. I'll put down my swords. I'll let you walk away, if you let me do the same."

He looks from Tarou to Iwasa. "How about it?"

"Reasonable, for a pompous samurai," Iwasa says. "You fucker, where the hell did you learn to fight? I thought I had you cornered, for sure." He snorts. "I still do."

"Do you really want to die?" Hyakkimaru asks, digging the point of his sword into the hollow of Iwasa's throat and pressing down slightly.

"Fair point," he says. "Stand down, men," he calls to the three bowmen. They lower their weapons, and Hyakkimaru stands up, keeping his swords trained on Iwasa as he also stands.

"Now," Hyakkimaru says, "can we settle this peacefully?"

"Sure," Iwasa says. "Give me all the money you got, and I might be inclined to let you go free this time."

Hyakkimaru's hands drift to a slightly unfamiliar pouch at his belt that is, sure enough, half-full of gold ryo. "You're just another thief. Why should I give this to you?"

"Because stealing from the Daigo clan ain't stealing," Iwasa says.

"Amen to that," Dororo says.

Iwasa and Dororo smile at each other, and Hyakkimaru is a little envious of that. These are supposed to be his friends, too. 

"You're not helping," Hyakkimaru mutters to Dororo.

"Of course I'm not; I'm a thief, too." She keeps smiling at Iwasa.

Something churns in Hyakkimaru's stomach. He tosses Iwasa the pouch. 

Iwasa gives him a grin full of glee. "Pleasure doing business, Daigo-sama." 

A flock of sparrows breaks out of the treetops overhead, accompanied by a loud, prolonged sound like the call of a hunting horn.

"That would be an enemy heading for my camp," Iwasa says, "so I'll be on my way."

Hyakkimaru nods wearily, and steps back far enough for Iwasa to return to his men. "Fine. But leave innocent travelers alone, okay?"

"Heh," Iwasa chuckles. "Later!" He runs off into the trees, his men following behind him at a rapid clip, and Dororo actually waves.

"Do you know him?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"He's a legend," Dororo says. "Like he said. The bandit king."

"Why didn't you go with him, then?" he grumbles.

She smirks at him. "Call it the devil you know," she says. "You're a samurai asshole, but a nice one. I'll throw my lot in with you for a bit, at least until my feet are better. The bandit king'll still be there if I change my mind."

***

Hyakkimaru and Dororo return to Kaga with no further incident worse than a sudden autumn downpour. They are in the city when the rain starts, so they only have to travel a few hundred meters to the gates of the outer palace. Dororo's warashi are ruined in the mud and her feet need tending, but Hyakkimaru's grateful to have gotten back to the palace in time with so little else going wrong.

Hyougo meets him at the gate, looking perturbed. "Where did you go, tono-sama?" he asks. "Your father sent out Kurakawa and Oosuji after you."

"They must have passed us by, then," Hyakkimaru says.

At the word 'us,' Hyougo's eyes lock onto Dororo. "And who is this, tono-sama?"

"An injured woman I met on the road," he says. "She has no home and needs medical treatment, so I thought to offer her a place here for a short time."

Dororo rolls her eyes.

Hyougo hms thoughtfully. "Very well, tono-sama. I will have dinner brought to your rooms, and you can explain to me where you went over a meal."

Hyougo leads Hyakkimaru and Dororo back to his rooms, and goes to get dinner. Dororo places a hand on the wall near his butsudan cautiously, as if she's afraid it will burn her.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "This can't be real. You've broken me into a thief's paradise, mister. I can't thank you enough."

Oh. Right. Dororo is very much a thief, still. "Uh, I will pay you, and you can steal from me if you have to, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't steal from anyone else."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I didn't bring you here so that you could steal," he says. "If the wrong person catches you, you'll lose your hands." Or worse.

"Then..." She looks at the ground. "Why did you bring me here?"

He surveys her critically. Her balance is uneven because she keeps shifting from foot to foot from the pain of her injuries, and her kimono is drenched. Hyakkimaru digs around in his closet and finds what he's looking for: a spare Daigo clan retainer uniform, a bit too big for Dororo, but warm and dry. "Go in the other room and get dressed," he says, tossing her the clothes. "I'll explain while I fix your feet."

She goes into the next room, and he unpacks Jukai's salve from his pack and retrieves long strips of cloth to use as bandages from his closet. By the time she returns, still limping, to the room, he's ready to treat her. He asks her to sit while he works, and she does.

"So...I gotta ask, what does a servant to a lord of Kaga actually do?" Dororo asks as she adjusts the obi of her uniform uncomfortably.

Hyakkimaru looks up from applying the salve to her left foot. "I was thinking I'd have you polish my swords," he says. "I'll give you one--and teach you how to use it--if you do a good job."

She looks him up and down. "You said this work pays? Do I get food?"

"Hyougo should tell you where to sleep, and yes, you'll be fed twice a day."

She shakes her head. "And these clothes? Do I pay for them?"

"No, the house provides them," Hyakkimaru says, a little stunned himself at all the casual wealth that Daigo just takes for granted. "You'll have to keep them clean, though."

Dororo looks down at herself with an expression of disbelief. "It's too good to be true," she says.

"Don't say that until you see the swords in the armory," he says. "I'm sure there are some that have half-rusted from neglect."

She shrugs. "I always like a challenge."

***

Dororo takes to polishing the swords like it's her own god-given personal mission. Even the armorer is impressed with her, and tells Hyakkimaru as much on the second morning after Dororo's appointment.

Aside from Hyakkimaru, only Ishimaru knows that she's a reformed thief and not a woman he rescued from bandits--but Ishimaru doesn't mention this to anyone. Perhaps he doesn't recognize Dororo. After the seamstress Hiroko scrubs her clean and does her hair properly, she looks remarkably like the Dororo that Hyakkimaru had come to know--absent manners of any kind, of course.

And so Hyakkimaru suffers through awkward teas with his wife and the complex logistical planning needed to bring his mother's mushroom-picking plans to fruition, and can never quite bring himself to turn his steps to the Hall of Hell to end this hallucination. His life, and that of everyone around him, is so stable, so easy; and he doesn't have a time limit. 

He doesn't want to leave until he finds out what Daigo sold to win this peace.

But that information doesn't seem to be forthcoming. He is not supposed to know about Daigo's demon contract, so it is impossible to bring up in conversation. No one else seems to think anything about Kaga's current situation is strange. Eventually, he resorts to asking Dororo about it.

"Hey," he asks her as she rubs oiled cloth over bubble-shaped iron stains on an old blade. "Do you remember any wars in Kaga?"

"Not since before I was born," she says. "War and starvation's worse around this province than in it. Why d'you think I live here? Er, tono-sama."

"Do you remember when the last war was? Before you were born, I mean?"

"Uh, six or seven years before, I think?"

The timing lines up. Daigo had given the demons _something_ around the time when Hyakkimaru had been born--but what?

No one knows.

He asks Dororo to ask around, get the older servants talking to see if they can remember anything unusual that happened at the house around the time he was born.

"Why not ask them yourself?" she asks.

"I'm their feudal lord and they're terrified of me," he says. "But they might open up to you."

Dororo frowns.

"Please?" he asks. "I--need to know."

She nods. "This is related to you being crazy again, isn't it? Oh well." She shrugs her shoulders and keeps polishing the old sword. "Sure, I'll ask around."

Dororo has always liked talking, and her gift for it translates well into forming relationships with the other servants. She reports to Hyakkimaru with her findings every evening. Usually, there is no change; no one knows what happened the night he was born. But she tells him about making friends with Hiroko, and Ryouma, and the ex-Takeda retainers his father had captured and put to work. She even makes friends with the street urchins that prowl around Daigo's waste pit.

Even Ishimaru finds out about his information-gathering campaign, and starts interviewing his own servants. When Hyakkimaru asks him why, he gives him a kitsune grin and says, "Because I think you're on to something."

"Come again?"

"Mom and dad, they're hiding something," he says. "I've known it for a long time, but I never knew what. I knew it happened before I was born--one of the midwives told me a story about how father got his scar. But," Ishimaru says, "I never believed her."

Hyakkimaru holds his breath. "What did she say?"

Ishimaru looks closely at his face. "Do you promise not to laugh? Or call me an idiot?"

"I promise."

"All right. She said that father took a sacrifice to the Hall of Hell--you know it; that ancient temple to the old gods a little outside the city at the foot of the mountain." Hyakkimaru nods. "And that after he did that, lightning struck him in the forehead." Tahoumaru shrugs. "His scar is interesting-looking, I'll give it that... And it's not like he ever talks about how he got it." He pauses. "But most people don't survive being struck by lightning. Not in the head. I think the rumor must have gotten started because of the stories about that temple."

"What kind of stories?"

"Stories about that temple claim that whatever's inside can grant your wish, for the right price," Ishimaru says. 

"So you think Daigo sacrificed something and made a wish," Hyakkimaru says.

"Yeah, maybe. Isn't that what you think? What are you trying to find out, anyway?"

"I'm trying to find out what he sacrificed."

Tahoumaru frowns. "Are you sure? Even if you're right, and that's what actually happened, that may not be something you really want to know."

"I do, though." He doesn't want to return to his world until he knows.

"Well, suit yourself," Ishimaru says. "And if you find anything out, could you tell me?"

"Sure," he says, though he has no intention of sticking around to tell Ishimaru anything.

"Thanks," Ishimaru says. "If I may...I have some advice, ani-ue."

"Oh?"

"You're too close with that thief you brought in," he says. "Yes, I recognize her. People are starting to talk, and talk will probably get back to your wife. Just so you know."

"Let them talk," Hyakkimaru says. "Dororo works for me. There's nothing else going on."

Ishimaru tilts his head a little and stares at him. "For what it's worth, I believe you," he says. "But that doesn't do you much good when it comes to other people. If you need to keep the thief near you, I suggest having more witnesses and being more discreet. You should also punish her when she fails to address you correctly."

"Noted," Hyakkimaru says. Acting the prominent lord is an annoyance he'd prefer to live without. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will," Ishimaru says with a nod. "My people are at your disposal in this matter. If you dig up father's secret, tell me first. I've wanted to know for a long time, myself."

Hyakkimaru nods in assent. Ishimaru turns to go, and he calls out to his retreating back: "Oh, I almost forgot...I promised mother I'd ask you to go mushroom picking with her next month."

Ishimaru raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

In that moment, Hyakkimaru finds himself hoping that some version of this world is real. Time is mutable for demons and for gods like Mizuha--perhaps there truly are multiple accessible versions of reality. He doesn't know, but he wants to believe that's possible. He would like his mother to enjoy the experience of having a normal family and freedom to explore the world--at least a little. He can imagine worse fates for himself than getting stung by nettles while hiking through the wilderness with his family. 

Hyakkimaru offers Ishimaru a helpless smile. "Seriously."

***

Approximately two weeks after Hyakkimaru had brought Dororo on as a servant, he gets an urgent message from her asking him to return to his rooms, quickly, and he sprints all the way there.

"Dororo," he calls as he enters his room, "what is it? Is everything all right? Did you hear something important?" He looks around the room, and at first he doesn't see her. Then he notices that his futon is unrolled on the floor in the corner of the room. His eyes track her body to where it's lying on top of the futon, naked.

For a few seconds the silence is shatterproof; it's like neither of them are even breathing. Then Hyakkimaru asks, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Dororo draws her legs up and outward, an open invitation. Hyakkimaru slams his eyes shut, keeps them that way as she answers, "What does it look like?"

He breathes out, then opens his eyes and stares at her face as if there's some kind of code written there. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want to stay," she says. 

He shakes his head in confusion. "I understand that, but--is this what you want?" he asks, harsh and incredulous. 

Dororo looks down, away from him, and pulls the futon covers up over herself, all the way to her chin.

"I thought...it was what you wanted. I can't--understand you, unless this is what you want." 

He nods, slowly, in sad understanding. "Other people might have used you for...that. I'm different."

"Why?" she asks, and she manages to look him in the eye as she asks it. "Do you prefer men? Am I too common for you? Don't care to sully yourself and your damn samurai pride with something so base? Or is that wife of yours just..."

"Stop. Dororo, stop." He feels the blood rising in his face, heart pounding in his ears; Dororo, *his* Dororo, had told him about her feelings before, but he hadn't fully considered that those feelings extended to sexual desire.

He should have seen this coming. This is his fault. He's been treating this Dororo like the one he knows, so of course she'd think--

"Get dressed," he says, curt, then spins on his heel and leaves, sliding the door shut as he goes, not able to face her any longer. He's ashamed of himself. He should have just left her at Jukai's, or let her chase after Iwasa.

"I need to go to the Hall of Hell," he mutters as he walks down the hall. This world has suddenly become far too uncomfortable for him.

***

The next night, he packs a bag--even though he doesn't really need it--and prepares to make his journey back to the Hall of Hell. He still doesn't know what Daigo sold, but he knows he can't stay here any longer. It is possible he'll discover more answers at the Hall of Hell itself.

Dororo comes to give her report while he's packing, and she stumbles all over her words, nervous. "Ryouma told me about another m-midwife," she says. "She left the castle after you were born. I got a name--here," she says, placing a slip of paper on his butsudan. "I asked him to try to get in touch with her. And, um..." She pauses. "Are you listening?"

"Yes. Sorry, I'm distracted. Keep going."

She looks at the floor. "Distracted. Right." She takes a deep breath. "I have a question."

"Make it quick," he says. "I'm leaving."

She blinks. "Leaving? I thought your mother's expedition was next week..."

"It is," he says, "but I have something to take care of. What did you want to ask?"

Her face goes white. Her cheeks are sallow and pinched along the edges, like she's afraid of getting hit. He's never seen that expression on her face before, and suddenly hates the irrational power gulf that exists between them. He musters his patience and asks quietly, "What is it? Ask. I won't get mad at you."

"Are you...going to kick me out. For what I did." It's not quite a question. 

He frowns. "No. You didn't do anything. I think we just...misunderstood each other." Her pinched expression does not change, so he adds, "I don't want you to feel like...like you owe that to me, or anything," he says.

"I understand," Dororo says with a nod. "Not like I could even compete with that gorgeous rich wife of yours anyway, right?"

"Actually, I hate my wife," he says, and it's very freeing to say it. He is going home tonight; there's no reason to lie or pretend any longer.

"...what?"

He does hate his wife. Not her, exactly, but the concept of her. She had also sexually assaulted him and orchestrated an attack on Konzo that left hundreds of innocent people dead in his previous life, and while she's innocent of those crimes here, he's not about to forget it. Even the person he was meant to be had lit his own house on fire in protest of the marriage.

"Then why?" Dororo asks. "If you don't want anything from me, why are you being so damn nice? I mean, you feed me, get me clothes, give me work...What the hell _do_ you want?"

Something in his chest feels tight, and for all the years he'd lost with Dororo in his previous life, not knowing her in this life at all smarts like an actual wound. 

"I don't want you to leave," he says. A peculiar mood is on him; he feels like this is goodbye, so he tries to be as honest as possible. "You're the only friend I have."

He is whole here. He has his body and his family and he isn't cursed.

He'd also lost his best friend.

"I still think you're mistaking me for your friend," she says.

"No, you _are_ my friend," he says. He thinks about what Ishimaru told him about the rumors swirling around him and Dororo, very briefly. Then he yanks Dororo into a hug.

She resists a little, then relaxes into it, and he thinks: _Goodbye._

***

His journey to the Hall of Hell is uneventful. Even slipping past Daigo's guards and spies is easy--perhaps because the person he's supposed to be isn't prone to leaving the palace at all. He knows exactly where he's going, and even with the roads muddy and in bad repair, he makes good time in the dark. 

He arrives at the path to the Hall of Hell just before daybreak, dawn light illuminating the path carved into the rock of the lower mountain. The shadow of the temple looms large as he makes the ascent. The air is still--until it's not.

He hears the sound of a sword leaving its sheath. He turns with his own swords drawn, and sees Kagemitsu Daigo staring back at him.

"You followed me," Daigo says in a threatening voice that rumbles out from his chest. "Why?"

"I didn't follow you," Hyakkimaru says.

"Then why are you here?"

Daigo takes a few steps forward, and Hyakkimaru crosses his swords over his chest to guard himself. 

"I could ask you the same thing," he says. "But you asked first, so I'll tell you. I know that you sacrificed something to the Hall of Hell demons when I was born," he says.

Daigo blinks. "What makes you think I did something like that?"

"I don't know for sure," Hyakkimaru says, "but you being here in the middle of the night for no reason seems like quite a coincidence."

"I'm just passing through," Daigo says.

"With no guards, or spies, or entourage. Convenient."

Daigo sighs in exasperation. "Who told you?"

"No one. I figured it out by myself." He looks Daigo in the eye. "What did you sell?"

Daigo shakes his head a little. "Turn around. Go home. These matters are private and don't concern you."

Hyakkimaru huffs a laugh, and his breath hangs in the chill autumn air. "And what will you do if I don't?"

Pre-dawn light flashes in Daigo's eyes. "I'll kill you."

Calm settles over Hyakkimaru's nerves. This is the Daigo he knows; the Daigo he remembers. "And here I thought you loved me, for a second," he mutters, kicking himself internally for ever thinking Daigo could be capable of paternal feelings.

Daigo's mouth settles into a firm line. "It is because I love you that I order you to turn back. I made this sacrifice for your sake. I ask you to trust me, and go home."

Hyakkimaru can't do that. He has to enter the Hall of Hell to return to his true world. And if the answers he's looking for are also in the Hall of Hell, that's even better. 

He'd never gotten to cross swords with Daigo in his world.

This should be interesting.

He strikes high but it's a feint; Daigo doesn't bother to block and kicks him in the shins. He jumps, but he doesn't get the height he's used to, and Daigo manages to make him stumble.

He blocks Daigo's incoming cut, but Daigo has only one sword; he uses his free hand to land a punch to Hyakkimaru in the gut. Hyakkimaru manages to step back, avoid the full force of the blow, but it reverberates through his ribcage like a strike to a drum, leaving him slightly disoriented.

Daigo is good. In this world, Daigo has practical battle experience, and good health. Hyakkimaru doesn't have his enhanced reflexes, or speed, or strength here. 

He realizes all of this as Daigo aims a spin kick at his head. He dodges and moves in for another cut, positioning awkward as Daigo shifts his sword to block Hyakkimaru's strikes. Daigo uses a circular block to push Hyakkimaru's swords out of the way and slices into his shoulder, cut trailing toward the center of his chest.

It hurts, but the gash isn't deep. Hyakkimaru can hear his heart in his ears.

"Go back," Daigo says again, cold and commanding.

Hyakkimaru raises his swords. "No."

Daigo sighs in disappointment. Then, moving so fast Hyakkimaru can't see it, he kicks him in the head.

Hyakkimaru loses his grip on his right sword as his arm comes up to protect his skull; he falls to his knees and looks up at Daigo in blank-faced shock.

He can't _die_ here, can he? Mizuha hadn't said anything about that--

A throwing knife catches Daigo in the shoulder, and he staggers back a step as Dororo materializes out of the trees in front of them. Hyakkimaru is briefly stunned. She must have followed him--but why?

As if in slow motion, he watches as Daigo regains his balance and yanks Dororo bodily forward onto his sword, before flinging her limp body to the roadside.

Hyakkimaru's concentration snaps for a split second before he reminds himself that _this is not real_. But it feels real. It feels real when he brute forces down Daigo's guard and uses his demon-killing sword to slice him deep, from his navel up to his lightning scar. It feels real when he kneels down and flips Dororo over where she'd face-planted into the road, blood spraying everywhere.

She's still conscious--barely. "Why did you _do_ that?" He lays her flat and starts ripping off her layers of kimono to get to the wound so that he can compress it.

She coughs and says, "Was gonna kill you."

"I know. You should have let him." The cut is too deep. It's pierced her stomach and the bleeding is not stopping. Even if he had all Jukai's medicines on hand, he wouldn't be able to stop the hemorrhaging. She's the person in front of him--and he can't save her.

"No," she coughs.

"Why?"

"Friend," she gasps, opening her eyes wide as she struggles to breathe.

"Dororo," he says. He doesn't know what to say. She'd sacrificed herself to save him. They barely know each other in this world, and yet--

"I love you."

Her lips twitch upward in something like a smile. Then she goes completely limp.

Dead.

_Not real._

It feels too real for words.

He stares up at the looming shadow of the Hall of Hell, and limps forward one slow step at a time.

***

Hyakkimaru ascends the stairs leading to the Hall of Hell. The wide wooden doors of the temple come into view, and he breathes a sigh of relief. "Mizuha," he says, "I'm coming."

"I wouldn't advise that," someone says from behind him.

He turns around, and sees Biwamaru standing there.

"Biwamaru," he says. "What are you doing here?"

Biwamaru narrows the edges of his eyeless sockets and smiles kindly at him. "I don't know you, boy," he says. "How is it that you know me?"

"I assume you're here to guard the Hall of Hell," Hyakkimaru says. "Why? Are the demons still inside?"

"They are," Biwamaru says. "Are you another man who has come to ask the demons for a favor?"

"No," Hyakkimaru says. "I just need to get inside the temple. Then I can go home."

"'Home'?" Biwamaru asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"The goddess of mercy sent me here," he says. 

Biwamaru frowns at him, and his hand twitches toward his lute sword.

Hyakkimaru sighs. "I don't want to fight," he says. "Just let me into the temple. If I come out, you can cut me down. I won't even put up a fight. I swear it."

Biwamaru stares at him for a few tense seconds. Then: "Very well. Follow me."

Hyakkimaru limps after Biwamaru, who opens the wide wooden doors for him. In the gray light of the early morning, the wide opening appears as dark and formless as an abyss.

"Enter," Biwamaru commands. "But do not expect me to let you leave."

Hyakkimaru steps through the door, and feels the darkness settle over him completely as Biwamaru shuts and bars the entrance behind him. 

His eyes adjust gradually to the darkness. He discerns the shapes and figures of the demon statues, unbroken and solid, with features as sharp and etched as if they'd just been carved. As he walks, he realizes that there is a faint source of light coming from somewhere. He directs his feet toward it, hoping to find Mizuha here.

Instead of Mizuha, he finds a man, around his age, embedded into the highest and largest of the demon statues: Obariyon. The man is glowing faintly, but he is not moving.

Hyakkimaru gets closer by slow degrees, until he's standing directly under the man that hangs like a living sacrifice above him. He gets a good look at his face, and bites out: "Huh--Kouhei? Kurakawa Kouhei?" He might be wrong, but if the man hanging above him _isn't_ Kouhei, he could be his identical twin brother.

The man's eyes open wide. "I have no name, human," he says. "You'd do well to get out of here, before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" 

He bares his teeth in a fierce grin. "This place is controlled by demons." He gestures to the statues. "People who wander in, well--they don't tend to wander out, if you take my meaning." A pause. "Or--wait--are you this year's sacrifice?"

Hyakkimaru understands why Mizuha wanted him to pray here.

Daigo had come here to give this creature, whatever it was, some kind of annual payment. This person--this creature--knows the price for Daigo's peace.

"Who did this to you?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"The lord of this province." His red eyes narrow dangerously. "You seem to know me, human. But we have never met."

"Not in this timeline, no."

The man smiles again. "Another who dabbles in demon magic. How exciting. Have you come to fight me, then? Kill me, perhaps? I would enjoy that."

Hyakkimaru glances cursorily at the webbed fleshy material that attaches Kouhei's faintly glowing body to the demon statue. "Can you even fight like this?"

"Oh yes," he says. "I can transform into any number of fearsome creatures. A dragon that breathes poisonous mist. A chimaera. A creature that devours. Anything you like."

"Awfully magnanimous, aren't you?"

"You aren't the first human that's wandered in here," the man says. "The demons don't care about anything, except that they eat. I can do anything I want with their powers, if I let them _eat."_

"Anything you want?" Hyakkimaru asks. "Why not escape, then?"

"Anything but that." The man looks him in the eye. "I am theirs, and they can hurt me. I am theirs forever."

Hyakkimaru returns Kouhei's stare and sees the very human agony there.

His mother always said he'd save the person in front of him. No matter what.

Dororo's slack, dead features flit across the surface of his mind, but he swallows past that and focuses because someone else needs his help now, and dwelling on Dororo will not bring her back.

"Kouhei," he says, because he can't think of him as anyone else, "I didn't come here to fight, but I am going to fix this. I swear."

"How?" he asks in a tone as bitter as a vial of acid. "I can't die."

"You can," he says, "if you never get possessed by demons to start with."

Instead of giving the demons his own child, Daigo had sacrificed the child of his enemy. Daigo had placed the entire weight of the sacrifice on the infant Kouhei's shoulders, and the demons had taken everything from him--save, perhaps, for a few remaining vestiges of a mind. On top of that, he had given the demons more sacrifices on some sort of predetermined schedule--presumably to keep his deal secret.

This is the source of Kaga's peace. Leaving aside everything else--his murder of Daigo, Dororo's death because of him--Hyakkimaru cannot accept any place in this reality. His understanding of what's happened here would make him as complacent, and as culpable, as Daigo.

"First things first, though," he says. He extends his left sword to Kouhei. "This blade kills demons," he says. "It may give you the release you want."

Kouhei looks at the sword. "Then do it," Kouhei says. "Do it, you bastard. Give it a try. I'll give you one free hit before I transform. Do it." 

Hyakkimaru takes a few steps back so that he can get a running start, then springs at Kouhei with both swords out, making clean cuts through his chest on both sides; the left sword pierces the heart. Kouhei's eyes go wide, and he coughs blood for a few moments as Hyakkimaru's demon-killing sword makes hissing and spluttering sounds inside the wound.

Kouhei doesn't move after he's been stabbed. His eyes remain open, looking at Hyakkimaru with something like an accusatory glare--but he does appear to be well and truly dead.

Hyakkimaru jumps down from Kouhei and moves toward the center of the chamber, near the wooden steps that lead up to the other demon statues. He climbs the first step, and hears a terrible rushing sound like a roar as all twelve statues crack and fall to pieces around him.

Hyakkimaru takes a deep breath in and goes to his knees. It's too much, knowing that without his sacrifice, someone else would have to suffer the same fate. But it's also comforting--no, downright encouraging--to realize that there may be a way to stop himself from becoming an eternal demon after all.

He cleans his demon-killing sword to a mirror shine. "Jukai is going to save me again," he says with a little smile. 

He assumes a posture of prayer, and says, "Mizuha. I've seen enough."

***

"Hyakki? Hyakki!"

"Hm...what?" He feels like he's just run ten miles without water. His mind and his limbs feel heavy and disjointed, as if they've recently been dropped back into his body from a great height.

"Where were you?" Dororo asks. "I've been looking everywhere--were you here this whole time?"

He blinks. Dororo is alive again. Still targeted by assassins, but alive. Mizuha had kept her promise. "How long was I gone?"

She sighs, exasperated. "Only a couple of minutes, but...hey!" She shouts as he jumps to his feet and pulls her into a fierce hug.

"Don't scare me like that," she says as she returns the hug. "What's this for, anyway?"

"You were dead," he says, because he can still see it: intestines spilling out, too much bleeding, nothing he could do. All his fault. If he'd let her stay a street urchin who hated him, she'd still be alive in that world...but somehow that feels worse.

Knowing that he is responsible for Dororo's misery if he does nothing and her death if he tries to help makes the world Mizuha had shown him untenable. He can't go back there. He can't kill Obaryon in the youkai world.

"Well, obviously I'm better," she says as she tries to squirm out of the hug. When he doesn't take the hint and let go, she relaxes, and says, "Sounds like a hell of a nightmare."

"It was." Hyakkimaru buries his face in her shoulder.

A pause. "...are you going to let me go now?"

"In a minute."


	20. Gods and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, if I'm gravely injured," he says, "I'll become a demonic vessel, full of their power. Monster to monster, demon to demon, I'm sure I can defeat whatever it is that Kouhei has become." 
> 
> "Gravely injured..." Dororo frowns. "What happens after the battle?"
> 
> "That's why I need you to come with me," he says. "Well, one of the reasons. After I--become this vessel, I don't think there's a way to make me human again. 
> 
> "So I need you to kill me," he says. "My demon-killing sword should do it." 
> 
> Dororo's eyes widen in shock. "No," she says immediately. "Bad plan, not happening. I won't sell your life so cheap, and neither should you. We should stick with the original plan, and go to Enuma."
> 
> "We'll be sitting ducks, hunted for the rest of our lives--which will be short, if Kouhei ambushes us. No." He shakes his head. "We take the fight to him."
> 
> He starts to get up, and she reaches out and grips both of his hands, hard. "I'm not letting you kill yourself."
> 
> "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no update :( 
> 
> Work has been kicking my ass soundly, but I hope the extra-long chapter makes up for the wait. 
> 
> Warnings (again) for brief, quickly reversed major character death (not in a dream world this time).

Hyakkimaru lets Dororo go, stares at the ground and says, "I'm going to kill Kurakawa Kouhei."

Dororo frowns. "Okay, but...we don't even know where he is. And didn't Kouhei kick your ass last time?" she asks, eyes wide.

"Yes," he says, but he hadn't had his answer then. He'd also never seen Kouhei fight before. With hindsight, he remembers half a dozen openings he could have taken, if he hadn't been quite so dazed, injured, and worried about protecting Dororo.

"Don't do it," she says.

"I have to," he says. "And you're going with me."

She tilts her head. "Huh?"

"Now is the best time to strike," he says. "Before winter, before the Asakura clan marches on us in spring. The two of us alone could slip past the lines and take out Kouhei and his command structure before they even know we're there."

Dororo places her chin in her hand. "That sounds suicidally risky."

It does. She's right.

But one thing he'd learned from the world Mizuha had shown him is that he'd rather die protecting Dororo than have her die before him.

Hyakkimaru looks up at her. "These assassins are not going to stop coming until you're dead," he says. "Kaga won't have peace. Neither will Konzo. Even if you get married, get guards to protect you, they'll find a way through, just like they did at Kaga." He pauses. "We have to take the attack to them. I am not going to just _sit here_ and hide and wait for them to kill you."

"Hm." She looks up at him with a little frown. "I can protect myself, you know?"

"I know," he says, "but you're injured. And even if you weren't, you need sleep. Assassins wait for moments of weakness, and then strike. Besides," he says, "there's another reason. Another reason to kill Kouhei, I mean."

"Oh?"

"He's possessed by a demon," he says. "Maybe more than one."

Dororo smiles wearily. "Now it all makes sense. You could have led with that." She yawns. "How'd you let it get past you the first time? You must be pretty rusty."

He ignores that. "There are other demons outside of Kaga," he says. "Kouhei is possessed by one of those. A very powerful one."

"How do you know?"

"It kicked my ass," he says. "And Mizuha told me."

There is a long, still pause. Wind blows through the branches of the tree above them. 

"How will you kill it?" Dororo asks.

By becoming what he was born to be.

"I..." he shakes his head. "I don't know how to tell you."

"Tell me." She says this quietly.

"When the demons ate my body," he says, "they...put some of their power into it. And even though they're dead, I still have that power."

Dororo nods. "Yes, I knew that from when we talked with Biwamaru. So?"

"So, if I'm gravely injured," he says, but he thinks _if I die_ \--"I'll become a demonic vessel, full of their power. Monster to monster, demon to demon, I'm sure I can defeat whatever it is that Kouhei has become." 

"Gravely injured..." Dororo frowns. "What happens after the battle?"

He sighs. "That's why I need you to come with me," he says. "Well, one of the reasons. After I--become this vessel, I don't think there's a way to make me human again. 

"So I need you to kill me," he says. "My demon-killing sword should do it." He'd tried it in the other world, on Kouhei, and it had worked.

Dororo's eyes widen in shock. "No," she says immediately. "Bad plan, not happening. Come up with something else."

"We need to kill him," Hyakkimaru says. "What's happening to him is wrong. I might be the only one that can actually--"

"--I don't care," Dororo snaps. "I won't sell your life so cheap, and neither should you. We should stick with the original plan, and go to Enuma."

"We'll be sitting ducks, hunted for the rest of our lives--which will be short, if Kouhei ambushes us. No." He shakes his head. "We take the fight to him."

He starts to get up, and she reaches out and grips both of his hands, hard. "I'm not letting you kill yourself."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he says, but he thinks it might. If he didn't think that, he wouldn't have asked such a terrible thing of Dororo in the first place.

"This is really shitty of you, springing this on me when I can't even fight you," she says. "Does this have something to do with your nightmare?"

"...yeah," he admits reluctantly. Kouhei had been sacrificed by his own side, the same way Hyakkimaru had been. Kouhei may have entered into the agreement willingly in this world, but demonic possession is still wrong, and poses a threat to Kaga, and Konzo--and the surrounding provinces, if the demons decide to keep conquering them.

In his dream world, Dororo had died specifically because he had needed to learn about Kouhei's sacrifice to the demons. The two events are now linked in his mind. 

He won't feel like Dororo is safe until Kouhei is dead.

"I'll follow where you lead because I don't have a choice right now," Dororo says. "But no matter what happens, you're not gonna die. Not on my watch."

Hyakkimaru shakes his head. "You died to save me."

"What?"

"In my nightmare," he says. "The least you can let me do is..."

"No." Her denial is flat and definite. "This is the real world, not a dream, and no one is fucking dying anytime soon if I can help it."

"Do you have any ideas to save our skins, then?" he asks.

A long pause. "I'll think about it."

***

They alter course during the night, looping back in the direction they'd come from. Weather permitting, they'll cross over into Asakura territory sometime in the next week or so. After that, they're going to need a plan, and more specific directions.

They march all night and well into the next day without a break. Not because they don't want a break--Hyakkimaru does, and Dororo could use one, given her general state of health--but because the day pits them against a series of unexpected hazards.

Rain falls all night, turning to snow briefly, making their way on foot treacherous. On top of that, several flocks of demon birds of the same kind that had assailed Hyakkimaru after he'd regained his hearing divebomb them at periodic intervals. Hyakkimaru trudges through slippery cold ground, dragging Dororo after him and throwing his swords to impale the birds as they run; Dororo cuts down more birds whenever they fly in too close.

"Too bad demon meat's inedible," Dororo says, "or we could eat for a week!"

"Yeah," Hyakkimaru says. His feet are frozen and mud-covered up to his ankles and he has half a dozen superficial wounds from the birds swerving and pecking at him. "Why are there so many? I haven't seen this many demon birds in years."

"You didn't kill whole bunches of them in Asakura territory the way you did in Kaga, maybe?"

"Maybe," he says. "Makes me wonder how many there are in Japan." He shivers. "We should get to the side of that copse, near the mountain. I want a fire, and to get a look at your stitches."

"They feel fine," Dororo says. "I don't think I'm bleeding."

"We should still take a look," he says, "before more of those birds attack again. Besides, the cliff should give us some protection from these attacks."

Dororo acquiesces with a little shrug. They set up camp under a wide cliff that provides shelter from the sleet and keeps out most of the wind; it should also provide decent cover for a fire. Dororo cleans their weapons of demon bird blood while Hyakkimaru gets a fire going and prepares bandages. 

Because the wounds have mostly stopped bleeding, there is no need for Dororo to disrobe this time--good thing, too, given how cold it is. She pulls open her kimono partway and unties her bandages, revealing the line of stitches. 

She gasps when one of them snags on fabric. "I hate my stitches," she mutters. "Hate them, hate them, hate them."

Hyakkimaru kneels next to her and looks the wound over. He had meant to take a look at the damage the previous night, but had been too distracted by what Mizuha had allowed him to see--and by the assassin he'd killed--to stop for rest. He is glad to observe that there is minimal internal damage, and that the bleeding has completely stopped, like Dororo had said. The open wounds are now not much deeper than superficial scabs. He shrugs, and snips the top and bottom stitches with a knife before removing them. 

Dororo looks at what he's doing and says, "Does this mean I'm healed?"

"No," he says, "it means you don't need stitches anymore. If you push yourself too far, you might need them again."

She lets out a long breath. "Well, that's a victory of a sort. I'll take it. Never thought I'd be rid of the damned things."

"They held your guts in when you were bleeding out," he reminds her. He gets a flash memory of Dororo being run through and cast aside with her intestines spilling free, and swallows hard.

There is a long pause. The fire crackles. Hyakkimaru can hear bird calls sounding, somewhat far off still. Dororo ties up her kimono again, and extends her hands to the fire.

"I've been thinking about it," Dororo says.

"Thinking about what?" he asks.

"Saving our skins. Like you said." She pulls her knees into her chest, wincing a little. "I think we should pretend to give ourselves up. If we play our cards right, they'll just take us to where Kouhei is without a fight. Maybe one of us poses as a bounty hunter, and we use that as an excuse to get in to see him."

He nods thoughtfully. "Either one would probably work better than just going in the front door of the Asakura palace and hoping Kouhei is there. Assuming it's still standing...I wish I knew the lay of the land a bit better."

"I've seen maps," Dororo says. "Surprise, surprise, it's on a hill, surrounded by ditches and rivers on three sides with the mountain at its back. Sneaking in might be possible, but it would be hard. I think we'd have more luck cutting our way out once we're inside." She frowns. "Assuming he's there in the first place."

Hyakkimaru nods again. "I'm impressed. I didn't expect you to know that much."  
  
"I was a con artist and a thief before I met you," Dororo says. "You doubting my skills is somewhat insulting."

"Sorry," he mutters. "But then...do you actually know how we can get in to a place like that?"

"I can think of a few ideas."

***

"I hate this plan," Hyakkimaru complains as Dororo wraps rope around his wrists. 

She's dressed in the black nondescript armor of a ninja; her cap covers half her face, and she's almost unrecognizable. That's the point. They'd entered Asakura territory almost a week ago, dodging demon birds and chilly weather the whole way, and jumped the first Asakura retainer they'd seen. They'd also stolen his clothing and armor. Then Hyakkimaru had tied the retainer to a tree and asked him a few questions. 

The scout had spoken readily enough, once Hyakkimaru had established that the only way he'd ever be untied was if Hyakkimaru and Dororo returned from their mission alive. He had told them that Kurakawa Kouhei was not currently in residence at Kurakawa castle. Of course not. That would be too convenient. 

But he had also told them that Kouhei is due to arrive at the castle sometime within the next day or two--in fact, he had been set to arrive this very evening. The scout had been assigned to a place on his travel route, waiting to guide Kouhei in.

"Won't they realize you're missing, then?" Dororo had asked.

"I doubt it, miss," the scout had said. "Bandits and thieves on the road. Not to mention the monstrous birds, and the drowners."

Hyakkimaru and Dororo had looked at one another in clear acknowledgment of the uptick in monster attacks. Apparently this is something that's happening all over Asakura province, and isn't confined locally to them.

"Something's making the monsters unhappy," Hyakkimaru had muttered.

"And who are you?" the scout had asked.

"I don't owe you an answer," Hyakkimaru had answered, "but the short answer is, I hunt monsters."

The scout had nodded a little uncertainly. "Because I am not a monster, will you...let me go?"

"When we get back," Dororo had said. "We'll loosen the ropes a little when you leave, give you food and water so you won't die while we're gone. It won't be fun," she had said, crinkling her nose, "but if we live, so will you. Probably."

"Then I hope you kill the monsters," the scout had said.

"So do I." 

Dororo had gotten to work with the ropes, and sorting through gear. Then she and Hyakkimaru had fought over who would pose as the Asakura retainer. Dororo's face is easily recognizable, so she would be a good prisoner. However, Hyakkimaru is in better physical condition to escape prison if they get separated, and Kouhei would also recognize him easily. The contract for Dororo's assassination had mentioned him as well. 

Eventually, the matter is settled by the fit of the scout's clothes. The man they'd captured is on the short side and slight, so his hakama and headgear don't fit Hyakkimaru at all. 

Costumes done--Hyakkimaru is somewhat relieved not to need one--they wait until dusk so that Dororo, at least, will be able to pass unnoticed more easily. Then Dororo binds his hands and lower legs together so that he has to skip-hop to move, and it's ridiculously uncomfortable. "How far is it to the castle, again?"

"Quit your whining. You're my prisoner." She gives him a fierce grin. "No way you can give me the slip now."

"You...are enjoying this far too much," he says. 

"You have no idea," she says, smiling wider. "Anyway, I can see the signal fires from a tower from here. Shouldn't be more than a mile off."

He nods. "Remember what to do if we're separated."

"Not gonna happen," Dororo says. "But I remember."

"The timing might also be off," Hyakkimaru says. "He might not be here yet."

"If he isn't, we'll wait inside and make an ambush. Either way, getting inside is the hard part. C'mon."

They come out of the woods and onto something like a proper road; most of the path is packed earth, but it's lined with stones and perfectly flat, obviously much-traveled. Dororo gives Hyakkimaru's ropes an exaggerated yank; he stumbles forward, and when he looks up, he goes slightly slack-jawed in amazement.

Asakura castle is not as large as Takeda castle, or even as large as Daigo's palace. However, its stone is black as pitch and smooth like water, as if the entire structure has been lacquered against fire; it almost looks like it's made of volcanic glass. The castle's structure is swart and low, but the roofs soar and sweep toward the sky in an imitation of the surrounding mountains. He notices that the castle is a perfect square, or close to it; fortifications surround an inner area that he can't see well from here, and there are four towers for archers.

This place is unusually well-defended, for not being an active war zone. Hyakkimaru spares a thought as to why, and remembers the vicious demon bird attacks that he and Dororo had suffered on the way here, and what the scout had said about the safety of the roads. It makes sense for the Asakura clan to defend the castle from monster attacks. 

The added defense is bad news for him and Dororo, though. Perhaps it had been optimistic from the start, thinking they could cut their way out easily from inside. Too late now.

Dororo leads him forward slow steps at a time. There are rows of guards at a wide wooden gate; the first two cross their spears in front of Dororo as she approaches.

"Got a prisoner for Asakura-sama," Dororo says casually.

"Oh? Who'd you get?" the guard on the left asks.

"Daigo's brat," Dororo says.

"The heir?"

"Nah, the other one. My guys are hunting the heir. Should bring her in later." She says this fluidly, easily, in something like her old street urchin accent. If he didn't know her, Hyakkimaru might be convinced of the act.

"Good news. I'll send word ahead. The lord just arrived. Go on through." The guard on the right lifts his spear, and the one on the left copies him. Dororo tugs at the rope around his arms again, and together they pass through a gauntlet of spear-wielding guards sixteen deep--eight on each side of the gate.

Hyakkimaru's fingers twitch for his swords.

Dororo has them.

He swallows and tries to be patient.

Dororo ambles down the hallways with her shoulders up and her head high, just like she belongs here, and while neither one know where they're going, she doesn't seem to be lost. They keep to the widest of halls heading north, toward the rear of the castle.

The interior walls are made of the same stuff as the exterior, black and shiny. Blurred, distorted reflections of themselves follow them as they move. "This place gives me the creeps," Dororo mutters.

"Me too," he says. "Sure we're not lost?"

"Positive," she says, and points.

There is a set of double doors ahead of them, also black and shiny, but with the white Asakura flower painted on it. Two more guards are at the door.

"The lord is expecting you," one guard says crisply as they come closer. "Follow me." The guards push the doors open on their sliding rails.

Dororo copies the guard's salute and tugs on Hyakkimaru's rope. He hops forward, stumbles, and is scolded for it.

His only consolation is that the plan seems to be working...so far.

They enter a huge empty space, devoid of any decoration: no rugs, no paintings, no furniture: only the sucking black dark of the walls. Aside from them, there are also no people.

"Hello?" Dororo calls out.

No response.

"This is not good," Dororo mutters. She turns and tries to push open the doors they'd come in from, but they don't budge--and unlike most of the castle doors, these are solid wood, not woven bamboo or paper. 

Hyakkimaru sees something bright glinting from the corner of his eye. He turns away from the doors and toward the light, and blinks in shock as the ground goes out from under him. He has the presence of mind to reach for Dororo as they fall, down, down, but he can't see, he braces himself for impact--

And then it all stops.

He blinks. And blinks again. His eyes adjust, and he looks up at a thin shaft of light above him. Cold mountain stone towers above. 

"Where...are we?" he asks, coughing what feels like ash out of his lungs.

"Some kind of death trap," Dororo says. "Maybe under the castle. They must have known we were coming."

"Yeah, or recognized you." Or maybe it's so important to guard Kouhei until spring that he's been given extra security. Maybe Kouhei hadn't cared what happened to the messenger, so long as the prisoner wound up dead.

"Of course they knew you were coming," a male voice calls out of the dark. "You didn't even bother to cover your tracks on your way in."

Dororo draws one of Hyakkimaru's short swords and cuts the ropes on his hands hastily, then starts sawing through the rope at his feet. "Who's there?"

A chorus of laughter--multiple people.

"Don't remember me? I'm not surprised." A man steps out of the dark and into the shaft of light. It's still dim, but Hyakkimaru can tell that he's about his own height, and missing an eye. "We never really saw eye to eye, did we?"

It's Tahoumaru--as he had been in life, before the demons had possessed him. 

"You're dead," Dororo says as she pulls Hyakkimaru's other sword free and hands it to him. 

"I know," Tahoumaru says. "And so are they." He gestures expansively behind him, revealing an older man and a young woman; younger than Nui no Kata but older than Mio.

"...mom?" Dororo whispers.

"It's a trick," Hyakkimaru says flatly. He grips his sword, using the movement to steady him. "It has to be."

"We're dead," the older man rumbles, and Hyakkimaru recognizes Jukai's voice. "We're not trying to trick you, or lie."

"Then why take these shapes?" Hyakkimaru asks. "What are you, really? Why are you here?"

"We're the guards at the door," Oujiya, Dororo's mother, says. "We haven't seen anyone in ages." She steps closer to the light and licks her lips, and Hyakkimaru can tell that she is emaciated. He remembers Dororo telling him she'd starved to death. She is carrying a sword, with good grip too, and he also remembers that Dororo's mother was a bandit.

"Guards, huh." This has to be some kind of demon. Other demons had been able to change their faces--though usually only one at a time. Some kind of kitsune, maybe? A trickster? "Will you let us pass?"

"You're as stupid as I remember," Tahoumaru says.

Hyakkimaru sighs. "Thought so." His chest pounds with remembered pain from the fall, but he ignores it. He sweeps his sword out in tightly controlled arc and beheads the closest figure to him--Oujiya. Her blood sprays everywhere; he sees some of it splash on Dororo.

Dororo screams, and then there is a brief chaotic struggle in the dark. Hyakkimaru puts his back to the stone and uses it to shield himself from blows coming from Tahoumaru and Jukai; he kicks Tahoumaru's legs out from under him. Dororo is poised for a perfect strike, but she hesitates.

"They're not real," Hyakkimaru says as he cuts through Tahoumaru's shoulder. 

Dororo glares pain and accusation at him. "How can you be sure?"

"Jukai," he calls out to the demon that had taken the shape of his father, "where were you born?"

"China, of course," Jukai says.

"Where in China?"

The demon doesn't answer.

"I don't know," Hyakkimaru says. "So it doesn't know. It knows what we know. Only what we know. Like Okaka, the demon with all the faces." 

Dororo nods, and poises her sword to strike. Jukai makes an overhead cut that Hyakkimaru ducks under; Dororo stabs him in the lower spine before grabbing Nui no Kata by the hair. Hyakkimaru is well-placed to slit her throat, but he hesitates, so Dororo does it.

Even if it's not real, killing your own mother is one step beyond the pale for both of them.

Hyakkimaru gathers the assembled bodies in a heap, and stabs each of them with his demon-killing sword for good measure. None of the bodies move.

His muscles are still sore from the fall, an echo of remembered agony. "I'm--injured," he says after running all the bodies through. "Are you all right?"

"No worse than before we fell. You must have taken the worst of it. Sorry."

"It's fine." He keeps a watchful eye on the still bodies on the floor.

"You had to kill your brother again," Dororo says. "And I killed your mom."

"We killed a demon," he says. "Demons mess with people's minds. They lie. Those weren't real people." He sighs. "But I suspect that was just the welcoming committee."

"What do you mean?"

"You heard what they said, and you saw how big this place is," he says. "I highly doubt there's only one demon down here." 

Dororo shivers. "You're--probably right. Shit." She rests her chin in her hands. "I should know better. You're demon catnip, after all."

"Dororo-san is right," another voice calls out of the shadows.

Hyakkimaru puts up his sword and squints as a swart finned creature with too many teeth steps forward, barely visible. "Tokku?" he asks. He keeps his sword raised. "You're not going to attack me, are you?"

Tokku shakes his head. "I am not so foolish, or so ungrateful. But I am a demon of Asakura. Many of us have been drawn here by...by a power."

"The power of a god?"

Tokku nods hesitantly. "Many surround the castle. Some are here, underground. All wish to possess the power. Some are driven mad."

"The birds," Hyakkimaru mutters, remembering.

"And what about you?" Dororo asks. "Do you want this power, too?"

"It is not the kind of power I could use," Tokku says after a short pause. "Hyakkimaru-sama could. Dororo-san could. But I cannot. I came to see if it was something I could use, but the god has only offered it to humans."

Hyakkimaru nods. "Thanks for the warning. Is there...anything else we should know?"

"The way out," Tokku says, pointing north and slightly east. "There are two paths, but they converge at the same exit. One path has the tiger demon. The other path has the god. I do not know which is which."

"I guess we'll have to try our luck," Dororo says. 

"Be careful," Tokku says. "Demons are here. Many. I do not know how many, but most are up above, or around. If you are careful, you will reach the god." Tokku nods. "The god will listen. The god is wise."

"Who is this god?" Dororo asks.

"What Mizuha is to Kaga," Hyakkimaru says. "Though I still don't really know why he would get involved here."

Tokku frowns. "It is because of you, Hyakkimaru-sama."

"What, me? What did I do this time?"

"You lived," Tokku intones gravely. "The goddess intervened to save you. You grew powerful. The god seeks to intervene, to restore balance."

"So this is Daigo's fault again," Dororo mutters. "Great."

"Never mind whose fault it is," Hyakkimaru says. "Our task just changed from getting out of here and killing Kouhei to getting past a god. I'm pretty sure I can't kill it," he says, remembering his dismal failure attacking Mizuha, "and there's only one way out."

"Do not kill the god, Hyakkimaru-sama," Tokku says. "Talk. The god will listen. I--" He pauses, flipping up one of his fin-shaped protuberances like a dog cocking an ear to a distant sound. "I think he does not know that the other demons have come to fight."

"How could he not?"

"The god is naïve." Tokku nods firmly, as if to himself. "The god is young."

"Younger than Mizuha? Younger than you?"

Tokku's fish-slips stretch into something like an enigmatic smile. "I am older than your goddess. She too is young." He shakes his head. "We kappa live forever, unless we are slain. I have begged my kinsmen to leave you be, but some are ruled by the desire. The power--" He stops for a moment, then says: "It causes--hunger."

"What does that mean?"

"Demons require food as humans do," Tokku says. "Some eat seaweed and kelp. But some require sacrifices. Animal, or--human."

Hyakkimaru can feel Dororo's eyes on him in the dark. "So this power makes the demons want to consume it. Like the demons consuming my body," Hyakkimaru says.

Tokku cocks his head again. "Simplistic, but similar."

"So if we get the god to call back this power--or store it somewhere where it can't be accessed--will Asakura's demons still be hungry?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"I do not know," Tokku says. "But you must try. I cannot shield you from all of Asakura's demons." He looks at the corpses made by the shapeshifter demon, and shakes his head sadly.

"You don't have to, Tokku-san," he says. "As far as I'm concerned, you've helped me more than enough already. We're even." He holds out a hand, and Tokku extends a fin.

"Farewell," Tokku says. "I must return to the water." He plods off, visible for a few steps, and then he vanishes.

Dororo sighs. "So," she says. "I think we should call Mizuha."

"Good idea," Hyakkimaru says. He prays to her, but she doesn't answer--at least not immediately. "It can take her a while to come, sometimes," he says. "But she always does. Come on. I want to clear our path of monsters, at least."

***

Hyakkimaru steps forward and out, into a pitch-black hallway lined with small stones that poke his feet through his sandals. There are two passages that branch off in opposite directions, as Tokku had said. "Which one?" Hyakkimaru asks.

"I vote left," Dororo says.

"Why?" 

"Because most people want to go right, instinctively. If I were a god trying to hide from people, I'd pick left."

"Left it is," he says. They walk down the hall, him in front, until they come to a wider space like an alcove. 

"I don't see a tiger," Dororo says. "We must be getting close."

"Sh." Hyakkimaru can hear something--distant, faint, but there. He squints, and sees a shadow moving in the darkness in front of them.

"Dororo, duck," he says with his sword up. The shadow leaps, and there's a force like a blast of frigid air as Dororo goes flying to one side of the room and Hyakkimaru to the other. The tiger charges Hyakkimaru, who only has one sword; all he can do is duck and swerve under the tiger's heavy front limbs.

He manages to get under the tiger with his sword up; he pushes the point in, and the tiger rips its own gut open with the force of its charge. It howls angrily; claws try to clutch at him, but he pushes his sword deeper into the wound and clings to fur of the tiger's neck and stomach, out of reach of both teeth and claws, while the giant monster bleeds to death.

It takes a long time. Hyakkimaru's arms go numb before it stops twitching. Finally, though, he extricates himself, then his sword, and begins to clean it. "Guess we should have gone right," Hyakkimaru mutters. 

There's no answer. 

He doesn't see Dororo anywhere.

"Dororo?" he calls out in the dark. "Dororo!"

Without warning, he is yanked bodily backward into another dark cavern leading to an empty passage. He gets to his feet in ready stance, prepared for another attack from the tiger, but it doesn't come.

Dororo is gone.

***

"Hyakki!" Dororo yells as she beats her fists against a rock wall. She doesn't hear anything. "Gods damn it, we weren't supposed to get separated!"

"Calm down," Hyakkimaru says from somewhere behind her. "We're not."

She turns, and while it's dark down here--there's no light source anywhere--she can recognize Hyakkimaru's basic shape. She lets out a little sigh of relief then, but says: "How?"

"How--what?"

"That tiger jumped between us--forced us into different hallways, and sealed the way back. How did you get here?"

"I jumped over the tiger," he says. "It was a split-second decision, and I almost missed."

Dororo relaxes marginally, but remembers that there are demons down here that can mimic the shapes and voices of others. She asks, cautiously: "Where was I born?"

"Odd question to ask, isn't it?"

"We...just killed those other demons for not knowing so..."

"But you told me, remember?" he asks. "You were born on a battlefield during a fire. I remember."

She nods. "All right. We need to get out of here. Find that god."

"I found a passage in the rock nearby. It's narrow, but we should fit if we crouch down. Come on."

Dororo follows, wishing she could see. A vague feeling of unease spreads out from her stomach, but she tries to ignore it. She had just barely avoided being gored by a giant tiger, after all.

"The hallway ends up there, so we must be getting close," Hyakkimaru says. "Do you remember the plan?"

She nods. "Still not letting you die."

"I have no intention of dying."

She blinks, but it's likely he doesn't notice her confusion in the dark. He had stated in no uncertain terms that he would kill Kouhei no matter what. Even if it killed him in the process.

She has to ask: "Do you promise?"

"Yes."

"Why?" He's not the sort to declare feelings openly, like this. Something still feels off. She's missing something, something small, something that would tell her if he's real or another demon...

"I love you. Duh. No way I'd leave you down here alone." He reaches up to ruffle her hair, and she ducks under his hand and steps back.

"You're not him," she says, voice low. 

Hyakkimaru remains where he is in the dark, and makes no move toward her. "Because I stated the obvious?"

"You're too casual and open about it. It's not like him. You're not him." She nods decisively. "And..." She looks down, and finds what she's been looking for: evidence of this creature's demonhood. "You're carrying two swords. You should only have one," she says, lifting her borrowed sword. "Who are you?"

Hyakkimaru clicks his tongue. "And this was going so well, too. I guess we have to deal with this the not-fun way." He shoves her backward, hard; her back hits the stone and she catches a glimpse of something like metal, regains her footing, and slams into him.

He staggers, and she slips through his sprawled legs and dashes back down the hall. She realizes as she's running that the fake Hyakkimaru had been carrying a key. 

"No one locks me up and gets away with it," she mutters.

She sprints back to the place where the tiger had separated her and Hyakkimaru before. There's a huge stone in the way, pushed there haphazardly; she shoves it to the side as hard as she can, and feels it budge just far enough to let her slip through to the room one the other side.

She emerges into the tiger room and looks around, sword raised.

To her surprise, all but one of the branching paths have been sealed shut with what looks like spider's thread.

Another demon? 

Tokku had been here. If she's lucky, this might be another demon she knows. "Jorogumo?" she asks quietly. Her voice echoes off the walls. "Are you--here?"

"I am," she says, descending from the ceiling. Her hands are shifted to spider form, but the rest of her is human in appearance. Her shoulders droop, making her appear more exhausted than usual.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you," she says, "but...why?"

"Mizuha is unavoidably detained," Jorogumo says. "So she sent me to help the demon slayer. I cannot find him, though. I have been searching the tunnels--there are so many vile vermin in there that you would not believe me if I told you."

Dororo grins. So much for being swarmed by a mass of power-mad monsters. "I think I know which way he went," she says, pointing to the the passage opposite her, also mostly blocked by a large stone and partially covered in sticky cobwebs.

Suddenly, Dororo hears something behind her. She ducks and rolls in the direction of the nearest corner as the fake Hyakkimaru rushes stumbling past her--directly into one of Jorogumo's sticky webs.

"Is he--?" Jorogumo asks. "Nope. Smells wrong." She lets out a long sigh, then shoots out more webs from her hands to bind him in place. She cuts the webs with her teeth, looking a little smug, and asks, "Which passage is it?"

Dororo points again, and the two of them hurry to remove the webs and stone blocking the way.

"Don't you want it, sister?" the demon asks as it watches them work. "We could have it."

"Have what?" Jorogumo complains. "Stop talking. I'm busy."

"We could have a share of that power. The host won't stop us. He doesn't know how."

Jorogumo clicks her tongue. "And what would I need more power for, exactly?"

The demon flinches. "Yes. You were always among the strongest of us. Until you stopped eating humans."

Jorogumo turns to face the other demon, leaving Dororo to struggle with the boulder. She folds her huge arachnid arms over her chest and juts out her chin. "Dealt with you handily enough, didn't I?"

The demon shakes his head. "You're lucky you got me. The other guy got the boss, and I don't imagine he's happy."

Dororo's stomach clenches. "The boss?"

"The god that granted Kouhei power," Jorogumo says. "We call him Hikari. He is somewhat like your Mizuha, but not, I think, as kind."

Hm. "Why? If he's the same as her--"

"He's not," Jorogumo says. "Mizuha was once human. As was I--or at least, I passed among you, and now I live as you do. Hikari has never been human. He does not understand you creatures."

"Would he kill Hyakkimaru?"

Jorogumo frowns. "If Hyakkimaru attacks him, I think. Otherwise he might just be content to let him rot down here. I'm still looking for a way out for you two that doesn't involve me cocooning you and yanking you out through a hole in the ceiling."

Desperation lends Dororo strength once again, and she and Jorogumo manage to shift the rock a few inches at a time until they're able to slip into the next passage. As soon as she's through, Dororo sprints down the open hallway. 

If there's even a slight chance of Hyakkimaru getting killed by this demon-god thing, she has to be there--if only to prevent Hyakkimaru from doing something stupidly self-sacrificing. 

"How rude," the demon wearing Hyakkimaru's face mutters after her.

"They're nice kids," Jorogumo says, "once you get to know them."

***

Hyakkimaru is very tempted to punch the wall to vent his anger. They'd taken so much care not to be separated, and now this.

Clearly, they'd gone the wrong way--that's why they'd encountered the tiger. But Dororo had been thrown to the opposite passage, which means she might be encountering the god right now. 

With no other options he can think of, he prays again: "Mizuha. I know you're really busy doing important god stuff, but I desperately need you. If you help me now, I'll give you anything you want, within reason. Please?"

No response. No Mizuha. No fire to light the darkness.

He hears the sound of rock shifting behind him, and painful, retching coughing, like someone's coughing up a lung. "Help," the voice says, and it's familiar.

"Dororo?" he asks.

"I'm here," she gasps. Her voice is somewhere in front of him, close, but he can't see her in the dark. 

"I thought you let go."

"I had to, to roll under the tiger. I followed you--saw the tiger seal the door to this place, too. Crawled under the rubble, but the rock fell on top of me when I crawled through." She suffers another coughing fit. "I think we're trapped.

"There's always a way out."

"Sure," she says sarcastically. "Maybe we can tunnel through the walls or something. Should be fun."

"Always such an optimist." He sits down close to her and puts up one hand, trying to determine if there's a draft coming from somewhere.

"I think we should give it up and go back to where we came from," Dororo says. "At least all the monsters are dead back there."

"I'm not leaving until I do what I came here to do," he says. "You should know that."

Another wracking set of coughs. "Yeah, I know. Just thought you might care more about me almost dying under rubble than getting revenge."

Huh? "Is that what you think this is about? Revenge?"

"What else?" she asks, and the question sounds mocking.

This doesn't make sense. He and Dororo had talked before coming here; she should be under no illusions as to why he's here. And Dororo giving up? Abandoning their mission completely? He's never heard her say anything like that before.

No. This sounds like more security; more guards at the door trying to keep him from getting at whatever's on the other side.

"You're not her," Hyakkimaru says. 

"What are you talking about? 'Course I am," she says with a huff that turns into another cough.

"Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?" He folds his arms and leans close, close enough to make out her expression in the dark. "You're not her. She's braver and tougher than this. So who are you?"

The smirk on Dororo's face is almost familiar--but it's too cruel to be. "Fine. Perhaps this shape is better."

Before his eyes, Dororo's face melts and contorts like candlewax, solidifying into the face of Mizuha. A dim corona surrounds her, reddish-orange like firelight.

Hyakkimaru nods cautiously. "But you're not her, either. Are you?" Mizuha had never shapeshifted. "You're--the god she told me about. The one helping this province. And the Asakurans."

The demon posing as Mizuha frowns deeply. "Usually, prolonged demonic possession of a body causes mental defects. Stupidity. Brutality. Arrogance. You seem...unusually intelligent."

Hyakkimaru blinks. "Kaga's demons never possessed my brain." 

"Ah, I see. That explains it." 

"Do you have a name?"

"Several," the demon replies. "I am a god of light, and am often called such. The people of this region name me Hikari."

Hyakkimaru nods in acknowledgement. "Have you...allowed demons to possess Kurakawa Kouhei?"

Hikari, god of light, waves his hand dismissively. The gesture appears eerily like one of Mizuha's--and not just because the god is wearing her face. "Nothing so crass as that. It is my powers he draws on, not those of lesser demons." Hikari grins. "That is why you are unable to defeat him. That is as it should be."

"Why give him that power?" Hyakkimaru says. "Before he attacked his own people, I never wanted him dead."

"You are of the Daigo bloodline and are his family's ancient enemy," Hikari says.

"I've never been part of Daigo's family, and I never will," he says. "Let Kouhei go."

Hikari tilts his head. "'Go'? Where?"

"I mean," Hyakkimaru says, "stop possessing him. Give him free will back. Make him human again. Go back to protecting this country the way that Mizuha protects Kaga."

Hikari's smile returns, wider than ever. "You are favored by my sister, the goddess of mercy. How interesting." But then his smile collapses at the corners. "I cannot do as you ask. The kind of power I have given Kouhei is not based on possession. I do not direct it or control it. I have merely given him power--and it will be his, until it is transferred to another."

"Transferred?"

"Yes," Hikari says, "as the demons transferred power to you, without your knowledge or consent. I can see that it is a terrible burden for you--gaining a long life of good health and strength, but overlong. You will live to see everyone you care about die, and then become a demon yourself. Sometimes my sister has a cruel sense of humor." He chuckles.

"I can see why they don't call you the god of mercy," he mutters.

"What?"

"...nothing."

"In any case," Hikari says, "you and your little friend have fallen into my oubliette. I don't imagine you shall escape--at least, not easily. Currently your friend is being led to the holding cells by someone she assumes to be you. Apparently she is not as skilled as you at seeing through illusions."

Damn it. "I'm going to get out us of here," he says. "Just try to stop me."

"Oh, I feel no active need to do that," Hikaru says. "I expect you'll slowly starve to death, over time, or be eaten by one of my pets. I myself find violence distasteful. You may have noticed that most of my guards have human shapes, while you," he says, his lips curling into a sneer, "have power derived from Kaga's butcherous beasts. Disgusting."

"Sorry," Hyakkimaru says. "I didn't exactly choose this."

"No, you did not," Hikari says with a sympathetic nod. "The question remains: what will you do now? Will you resign yourself stoically to your fate, or fight like the caged beast that is your nature?"

"If you're not gonna attack me, I guess I just have to get past Kouhei to get out of here," Hyakkimaru mutters. Dororo must be somewhere nearby. He thinks for a few moments, then looks at Hikari, who is still wearing Mizuha's face.

"Hikari," he says, then corrects himself: "Hikari-sama. You say you only gave Kouhei power. I believe you. But my friend and I encountered other demons down here--demons drawn to Kouhei's power. Deceivers. Cheaters. Liars. Tokku told me that this nation's demons are drawn to your power. Is that--true?"

"Quite," Hikari says. "You're friends with my pal the little drowner, are you?"

"Yes," he says. "Tokku told me that the demons in here are like leeches, trying to drain your power for themselves."

Hikari's eyebrows go up. "A plausible enough story, but why does it matter?"

"Kouhei might be in danger," he says. "When I came here, I wanted to kill him, but now I'm not so sure. If the power can be transferred somewhere--somewhere safe--that would be better."

"Better than what?"

"Better than letting Asakura rip itself apart from monster attacks over winter and war with Kaga come spring," Hyakkimaru says.

Hikari's eyebrows pinch together. "You are from Kaga. Why would you care about the Asakura province?"

"Because the Asakura clan aren't my enemies, and the province's people aren't, either," he says. "I need to neutralize the threat to Dororo, but..." He frowns. "Is there a way to transfer the power out of Kouhei?"

"Even if there was, why would I tell you?"

"Because I want to help," Hyakkimaru says. "Tokku told me you might not have foreseen all the consequences of you lending power to Kouhei. Those consequences are happening now." He looks Hikari in the eye. "So I propose a deal. You tell me how to transfer the power into something safe, something stable. And I'll get Kaga to negotiate a peace treaty with the Asakura clan."

Hikari snorts. "This, after insisting that you are not part of Daigo's clan or family? Preposterous. You lack the authority to make such a promise."

"My best friend is Daigo's heir," he says, "and I'm the heir of the Takeda clan, Daigo's most powerful backer at the moment. I have plenty of authority." And he looks at the floor. "Ask anything of me to prove I'm not lying, and you'll have it."

"Hm, anything?" Hikari asks with a little grin. "I can see why my sister likes you, but you do not have anything I want. Perhaps if the offer came from Daigo's heir himself, I might be more motivated."

"Dororo is a woman," he says, "but if you'll listen to her, I'll find her."

"If you do not starve to death first, perhaps," Hikari says. Then he vanishes, taking the light with him.

Hyakkimaru takes a moment to appreciate being alive and whole after his encounter with Asakura's god.

Then he kicks himself internally for proposing a deal with a god, because things like that rarely end well and he should know better. He wishes Dororo were still with him. She would have called him out before he'd tried sacrificing himself again.

His primary objective hasn't changed: he needs to find Dororo again. Now, that objective is even more urgent.

He travels along the face of the rock wall with his sword raised and his other hand tracing his route, searching for turns, rooms, light--any sort of way out. Tokku had told him that the way out was near where Hikari had been, but he doesn't see anything--no turns, no light--for several minutes. He doesn't feel a draft coming out from anywhere, either: these tunnels are enclosed. It's like Hikari had said: he's stuck here.

He takes a seat against the wall and thinks. Everything around him is quiet, seeming quieter as the sound of his own breathing fades to nothing. Then he hears it: the steady dripping of water, coming from above. He puts his ear to the wall, tracing echoes through the air the same way he had when he'd been blind, and he follows them back in the direction he'd come from.

He discovers that he had, indeed, missed a turn. It is so narrow that it is all but invisible, and it is on the opposite wall of the one he'd been hugging to keep his orientation. The stone snags his clothes and leaves cuts on his torso as he pushes himself through--but he does just manage to fit.

Almost immediately, the narrow passage widens and turns sharply south, toward the river--which explains the sound of water. The dripping has become a rushing sound, like white noise moving somewhere beneath him. He rounds the southward turn and notices red-orange light like sunset bouncing off the cave walls.

The way out.

He emerges from the passage into a large circular room carved out of the gutrock of the mountain. The floor is shined perfectly smooth, but the walls are rough and untreated: firelight shines off the irregular surface and nauseates him for a few moments as he gets his bearings.

There is a huge fire in the center of the room, but little smoke. Hyakkimaru glances up and discovers a cunning vent like a funnel that sucks in the smoke from the air. There is a man sitting with his hands spread to the fire. Hyakkimaru inches closer from behind, and the man stiffens.

"Stop."

Hyakkimaru stops.

"You did well, to make it this far," the man says. He turns around, and Hyakkimaru confirms that he is indeed looking at Kurakawa Kouhei. Hyakkimaru raises his sword on instinct, but--surprisingly--Kurakawa Kouhei does not appear to be nearly as much of a threat as he'd anticipated.

For one thing, he'd lost weight. A lot of it, in a short amount of time. That is why Hyakkimaru had not been able to identify him clearly from behind; he'd expected someone broader. The circles under his eyes are etched and deep. His mouth seems to be curved into a permanent frown. And his skin has the red-gold glow that Hyakkimaru has only ever associated with demonic possession.

He looks into Kouhei's eyes, and he recognizes the power radiating there: for all of Hikari's protestations about Hyakkimaru's bestial nature, it seems that Kouhei is just as animalistic when under the influence of that power.

"Kouhei," he says, keeping his guard up as he circles around him in threat. He has only one sword, and misses his other one desperately. He wishes Dororo were here. He wishes Mizuha were here just as much. Either one might help him level the playing field.

"So you got past the hounds," Kouhei says with a deepening frown. "How disappointing."

"You're not Kouhei anymore," Hyakkimaru says.

"You're right," he says. "I am more than he ever was. And thanks to his sacrifice, I will crush Kaga and unite Japan under Asakura rule."

"Yeah, about that," Hyakkimaru says. "I can't really--let you do that. You'd be killing someone I care about." He lowers his sword fractionally. "I'm sure you understand. You have people who are important to you, too."

"Pah." Kouhei spits. "All I care about is fulfilling the promise of the god."

"And what promise is that?"

"Kagemitsu Daigo and all his clan dead," Kouhei says, "and me victorious."

Hyakkimaru nods in understanding. "I sympathize with wanting Daigo dead."

"Liar."

"No, really," Hyakkimaru says. "Under most circumstances, I wouldn't even try stopping you. But the whole clan is a bit excessive for one man's crimes, don't you think?"

"No. Others will learn from the example. That is important, if I am to unite the provinces."

"Hm," Hyakkimaru says. He lowers his sword a little more. "Well--what if Kaga proposes an alliance, instead of an assassination with a hostile takeover?"

"What?"

"You heard me," Hyakkimaru says. "Like it or not, I'm Daigo's son. I could get him to call of the war, leave your people alone. Join us in peace and trade instead of destroying the land and giving yourself the headache of a resentful population. It's a lot easier to unite the provinces with allies."

"You propose peace between us?" Kouhei asks, a little uncertainly.

"I do."

"Even though our clans have not had peace for a hundred years?"

"Still."

"Why?"

"I don't want to kill you, Kouhei--if you're still in there. I never did. All I want is to protect the people I care about. If you're the same, then..."

"I am not," Kouhei says inflexibly. "As I see it, I've been given a rare opportunity. Daigo's last blood relative has fallen into my hands." He adjusts his grip on his spear. "So, do what you _really_ came here to do, why don't you?"

Hyakkimaru raises his sword again, but he hesitates. "Are you sure?" Kouhei's exhaustion is haunting; horrible to see. He hadn't looked anything like this the last time they'd fought. Hikari's power is taking a severe toll on him, whether he realizes it or not.

"I have never been so sure of anything in my life."

Kouhei's spear moves out in a sweep that Hyakkimaru blocks; he pushes off the wall behind him for momentum and jumps up, kicking high. His foot meets Kouhei's undefended left temple; he lands briefly on Kouhei's shoulders and leaps behind his opponent as Kouhei hisses in pain and raises his spear to him again.

"You've improved, demon slayer," he spits.

"You look like shit," Hyakkimaru says cheerfully. Hyakkimaru keeps the wall to his back for cover, in case reinforcements come, and presses the attack.

Kouhei spins completely under a high strike and brings the tip of his spear up in a diagonal to slash him open; Hyakkimaru steps out of the way of the blow, facing the opening of the passage he'd come through.

He sees a shadow rounding the turn of the passage. Reinforcements, as he'd expected. He sidesteps Kouhei's next hit and keeps his face to the passage, watching as Dororo steps into the room.

He is briefly so surprised that Kouhei manages to slash his guts open.

***

"No!" Dororo rushes into the circular room with her own sword up, shoving Kouhei's spear back and thrusting him away as Hyakkimaru falls. "No no no, no, it's not supposed to happen this way," Dororo chokes out, going to her knees next to him. She looks up at Kouhei. "Why?!"

Kouhei shrugs. "The fool talked of peace. As if there could be peace between us, while he lived." Another shrug. Then he levels his spear at Dororo. 

Dororo wrenches Hyakkimaru's sword out of his hand and blocks the spear with two swords. She chuckles darkly, adrenaline making her heart race. "He was right. Kaga can't have peace while you're alive." She executes a high-low strike that connects with Kouhei's shoulder and upper torso; he blocks the strike to his leg, and she says, "You fight like shit."

Kouhei bares his teeth in a fierce grin. Red light emanates from his wounds, closing them in seconds, and Dororo twirls her swords in irritation. "Super unfair. Guess I should expect that from a demon."

The circular room is relatively large, but Dororo's maneuverability is hampered by Hyakkimaru's body on the floor and the large fire in the center. She understands completely how one false step could result in being cut down. 

_Hyakkimaru isn't dead,_ she tells herself, even though she doesn't know. She won't find out one way or the other until this fight is over, so she chooses to believe he's still alive.

A sudden draft of cold air blows smoke from a vent into her eyes; she ducks and coughs, but Kouhei lunges and catches her square in her right shoulder; the spear tip rips down through her insides and punctures her lung. Her right sword clatters to the smooth, blood-slick floor beneath her feet, and she realizes that this is it. They're doomed. She and Hyakkimaru are both going to die here.

"Mizuha," Dororo says as she chokes on the smell of her own blood, "damn it, we need you!"

Mizuha does not appear. Dororo falls face-down next to Hyakkimaru, bleeding profusely and feeling increasingly cold and exhausted. She reaches for Hyakkimaru's hand--hoping for a reaction, or at least not to die alone--and gasps when his eyes open.

She watches in slack-jawed amazement as Hyakkimaru begins to change.

He grows six feet in seconds, so tall that the chamber can barely accommodate his height, and he goes down on his hands and legs, which become the paws of a lion as they set down; a snake tail grows from his spine and twists around, hissing as it moves. 

His face is the last part to go, melting and shifting into that of a lion. 

Dororo watches, stricken, aghast, and Hyakkimaru succumbs to Kaga's demons. This is the Nue. The Nue had been a clever, terrible monster; she'd nearly lost an arm because of it, and Hyakkimaru had nearly died going up against it. She is rooted to the spot, terrified by old memories, and waits to die.

Instead of attacking her, as she'd expected, the snake head lashes out for Kurakawa Kouhei. He dodges nimbly, using the shaft of the spear to vault to the side of the blow, but the Nue seems to have expected that: an extended paw, claws out, is ready to gore Kouhei where he lands.

The Nue lands a successful hit, and Kouhei staggers with three claw wounds across his torso. Like a cat with a toy being dangled by its master, he bats the spear out of Kouhei's hands with a single paw; it clatters to the ground within reach of Dororo.

Kouhei is down, screaming, bleeding. Red light starts emanating from his wounds to heal them. Dororo looks up at the transmogrified Hyakkimaru, and she's crying so hard she can't see. She is still carrying his left sword--his demon-killing sword--and he had asked her to kill him if this happened.

She lifts the sword weakly, then hesitates. The Nue shifts away from Kouhei toward her, and she realizes that Hyakkimaru's eyes had not changed. The Nue also does not move; it seems to be waiting for her, aware of her in a way the monster had never been.

"You're still in there," she whispers.

The Nue lifts its head up and down once.

"Shit," she says. The sword clatters to the floor, out of her hands. "I can't do this. I can't. You're not a monster. I won't kill you."

While she is distracted, Kurakawa Kouhei gets to his feet and lunges at her. Dororo rolls and grabs his spear from where it had fallen; he puts his hands on the shaft, but she manages to use her stronger grip on it to shift Kouhei's weight; he sprawls over her and down to the floor. She wrenches the spear completely away from him as he falls.

When he lands faceup in front of her, she musters the last of her strength and stabs him in the heart with the spear. "Die, you fucking bastard."

There is a blinding flash of light; the spear turns hot in her hands and breaks, and a force shoves her hard in the gut and sends her sprawling backward. She hits her head and her vision swims; she struggles to stay awake, but she passes out.

The remains of the spear disintegrate in Kouhei's wound. Light continues to swirl around Dororo. The Nue covers its head with its front paws and doesn't move. 

For a few seconds, all is still.

Then Mizuha appears in a flash of sparks, directly in front of the fire. "Hyakkimaru?" she asks. "I am sorry; your idiot father detained me. Are you all right?" She looks around, catches sight of the Nue, and shakes her head. "Hm. Well, I knew this would happen someday."

The Nue buries its head deeper in its paws in a posture of shame.

Mizuha clicks her tongue. "Now, now, it's not as bad as all that. Everyone is still alive, after all." 

The Nue peeks up at her, but does not withdraw his head from his paws.

"Try to calm down. Take deep breaths. You'll change back."

The Nue gulps in air, and by slow degrees--a limb here, an ear there--Hyakkimaru shrinks back to normal size. As his breathing becomes easier and steadier, his tail vanishes and his human shape solidifies--but it lacks the wound he'd gotten from Kouhei.

He notices that he's not hurt in a superficial way, then rushes directly over to Dororo.

She's unconscious, but she has a pulse. "Mizuha," he says, "I don't have most of my medicines--can you help?"

Mizuha sighs. "Look closer, Hyakkimaru."

"Huh?"

"She doesn't need my help. Look."

She's right. The injury to Dororo's shoulder and lung has stopped bleeding and scabbed over. There are burns and splinters on her hands from where the spear had exploded, but the swelling seems to be going down on its own. Her old internal injuries appear unchanged.

He shakes her gently, experimentally. "Dororo?" he asks. "Are you okay? Wake up."

"Huh?"

Dororo opens one eye, then closes it again, her shoulders melting into the floor as if she's entirely relaxed. "Thank the gods you found me. I was having the worst dream where you died and became a demon and--"

"--yeah, all of that happened," Hyakkimaru says.

"What?"

"Do you think you can sit up?"

"You mean I'm not?"

Hyakkimaru lets out a weary sigh and helps her sit up, putting her back against the wall. 

Dororo catches a glimpse of Mizuha. "Glad you came," she says.

"As am I," Mizuha says. "I apologize for being late."

"'s all good. Did you save Hyakki, then?" Dororo shifts her gaze from Mizuha to Hyakkimaru. "Are you all human now?" she asks. "How did you...un-demon?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm human now," he grits out, "I think. I'm not injured, but..." He winces. "Everything hurts."

"I'll bet. You almost died, like you said you would. I still don't know how we survived."

"You didn't," Mizuha said. "Both of you died. But only for a few seconds. Transmogrifying when you were an inch from death saved you, Hyakkimaru."

Hyakkimaru nods uncertainly. "Did you...expect that to happen?"

"Of course not. You're an exceptional case in a lot of ways." She smiles. "I wouldn't bring that out as a trick at parties, but you have always been astonishingly difficult to kill. I suppose this is just another example."

"And what about me?" Dororo asks. "Why aren't I dead?"

"While you were bleeding to death, the power of Kouhei's spear transferred to you. It was enough to heal your wounds."

"Huh?" Dororo asks.

"Shit," Hyakkimaru says.

"What?" Dororo asks. "What is it?"

Hyakkimaru thinks for a second, then says: "Later. We can talk about that later. It's enough, for the moment, that we're alive. We're okay." Hyakkimaru lets that idea sink in for a minute: somehow, they had both lived through this. They had killed Kouhei. Then he asks: "Where are we?"

"Still in Asakura castle," Mizuha says. "Where you fell. Jorogumo has killed demons and neutralized guards as they've filtered in, but I have no idea how many there are."

"So we did it," he says.

"Yeah," Dororo says. "We're just that awesome." She stretches out on the floor again, looking up at him. "I can't wait to get to Enuma. I'll stay in the sauna for days."

Hyakkimaru puts his face in his hands. "I can't go back," he says.

"What do you mean?" she asks. "Of course you can. This was always the plan, wasn't it? Depose the Asakura clan and build up Daigo's empire?"

"No," he says. His plan had been to die. He had wanted to sacrifice himself to create a better life for Dororo, and the people of Kaga and Konzo. If he keeps living, he's a ticking time bomb--especially since Dororo has proven she's incapable of killing him.

"I knew it." She slaps him. "Look at me. Listen."

He blinks, stunned, but he looks at her. 

"You are not any more allowed to up and fucking die than I am, okay?" she says. "I knew all along that you were treating this as a suicide mission, and I knew from the start that I'd have to stop you from doing any number of idiotic self-sacrificing things, but..." She pauses, and grips the sides of her head with both hands as she stares at the ground. 

Suddenly, she looks up. "Wait. Your whole plan was to kill yourself to save me." Her eyes narrow. "What does that mean to you, exactly?"

It's becoming harder to keep his eyes on her face. He feels heat rising on the back of his neck and says, "You died," he says. "In that--dream world. And I decided that I couldn't live without you."

"Selfish bastard," she gasps, but she doesn't sound angry. "You should have just told me you loved me and got it over with."

He shakes his head. 

"Why?"

"I don't deserve it," he says. "And I can't have it. I'm part-demon. I could go berserk and kill you or Iwasa or the kids at any time, so..." he spreads his hands. 

"You didn't go berserk when you changed," Dororo says. 

"I didn't?"

"You don't remember?"

"No," he says.

She purses her lips. "Well, your demonic self attacked Kouhei, not me. Even protected me a few times. So I don't think you need to worry about going berserk."

Hyakkimaru looks to Mizuha, who nods.

In front of them, Kurakawa Kouhei sits up and starts coughing up a lung. He rolls and kicks his feet, still coughing as he struggles to sit up.

"Kouhei?" Hyakkimaru asks. "I thought you were dead."

"I told you everyone was alive," Mizuha says acerbically.

"I wish I was dead," Kouhei says with a glazed look in his eyes. He sits up, folding in on himself a little as if his stomach hurts. "What happened to me?"

"Do you know where you are?" Dororo asks. "Are you hurt?"

"Dororo-sama? Why are you here?"

"Do you know where 'here' is?"

"The Asakura castle dungeons," he says. "How did I..."

"We'll explain," Dororo says. "You've been through a lot. We all have. I'd like to talk about all this after a bath and a hot meal."

"Agreed, Dororo-sama," Kouhei says as he struggles to his feet. "I'll lead us out out of here." He looks toward Hyakkimaru. "Who are you?"

"Hyakkimaru," he says. "You don't remember me?"

"No. Should I?"

With the spear shattered, the demon possessing Kurakawa Kouhei is gone. He still looks terrible--too pale, too thin, stretched to physical extremes no human should be pushed to. But he is human--just human--again.

Hyakkimaru grins at him like he's just made a friend.

***

Dororo stares at the Asakura peace treaty as they leave the castle out the front gate. She stares at it and does not speak as they mount up on borrowed horses and get on the road. She continues to stare at it until daylight fails, and it is then that she finally rolls it up and says, "I don't believe it's real."

"Neither do I," Hyakkimaru says. "But if I'd known Asakura had a demon problem from the start, I could have taken care of this issue months ago."

Dororo nods sagely. "It really is always demons with you." She glances over at him. "So."

"So?"

"Given any thought to what happens next?"

"What do you mean?"

Dororo rests her chin in her hands. "You said you're not going back to Kaga," she says slowly. "Sure I can't change your mind?"

"Why?" he asks.

She sighs. "I never wanted you to die for me," she says. "I just wanted you to be there."

He pokes her in the shoulder. "I'm here."

She smiles a little. "Yeah. You are."


	21. Sideways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I guess I'm an ice demon now," Dororo says. "That's pretty cool, huh?"
> 
> Hyakkimaru kicks her in the leg for making such a terrible pun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got crazy long again, so I split it at a logical point.
> 
> The end is coming, quite soon. It's half-written and all outlined, and some hints of it are in this chapter. :)

After the fight with Kouhei underground, Dororo has unusual dreams.

At first they're just sensory impressions: the chill of snow falling on trees, the brightness of a winter sun, the distant call of a hunting horn. In the dreams, she is always standing still, watching her breath mist in the air. A long, javelin-like hunting spear is often in her hands, though not always--and what's worse is that her hands don't look like her hands. She suspects they belong to someone else, but whenever she tries to take control of the dream and investigate who she is supposed to be, she wakes up.

It is always winter in her dreams, even though she wakes up to fall colors and deep blue autumn skies. It's an incongruous detail; it doesn't fit. She asks Hyakkimaru about the dreams over a breakfast of dried roots and fish.

"So," she says as she roasts her fish over the embers of a low fire, "I've been dreaming about winter lately."

He shrugs. "Winter is coming."

She shakes her head. "That's not what I mean...I get this feeling that I'm somewhere else, somewhere different--someone different. In another time, maybe, and it's winter." The wind picks up from the north, and she shivers a little.

Hyakkimaru cocks his head in confusion. "Do you often remember your dreams?"

"Almost never," she says. "I think...it's a side effect of when that spear sneezed power all over me. The spear's in the dreams, too, sometimes." She takes her fish off the fire and blows on it to help it cool, then takes a small bite.

"You could be right," Hyakkimaru says, "but all we know for sure is that the spear healed you, and you're having dreams--dreams that aren't nightmares. I wouldn't worry about it for now."

She nods. "What should I do, though? I want to figure this out."

"Ask Biwamaru, maybe," he says. "I can ask Mizuha, too, if it'll make you feel better."

"Thanks. It would."

***

Hyakkimaru has decided not to go back to Kaga, but that's not a decision that needs his immediate attention. Dororo is miraculously healed after the fight with Kouhei, but there are still dangers between here and Enuma that can't be foreseen. He decides that he'd sleep better at night if he at least gets Dororo to the Kaga border before saying goodbye.

It's not something they talk about--Hyakkimaru leaving again. He tries to bring it up casually, once or twice, but Dororo usually winds up telling him about her latest dream instead. The dreams seem fairly ordinary to him: winter scenes in nature, devoid of people or even animals: quiet, still and cold. The only really strange thing about them is the intermittent presence of the spear.

"Do you feel strange when you wake up?" he asks her.

"Yeah," she says, "I feel like I was there. Like I...go there in my sleep, or something, and I'm a different person."

"Where is 'there'? Who are you, in the dream?"

"I wish I knew."

He prays to Mizuha to ask for her opinion, but she doesn't show herself for several days. When she does put in an appearance, it's night, after dinner, and Dororo and Hyakkimaru are lying sleepless and awake, huddled close together under the same blankets for warmth against the onset of the year's first hard frost.

"I hate winter," Dororo says.

"'Cause it's cold?" Hyakkimaru asks with a shallow yawn. He's on first watch tonight, but he's tired.

"No," she says. "Well, yeah. But that's not--well, what I really hate is how fucking dark it is, and how hard it gets to travel. My shipping lines between home and Konzo are all slowing down right now and I can't do a thing to help."

"We'll get to Enuma soon," Hyakkimaru says.

"I know," she says. "I know." She settles onto her back, looking at the stars as they rise in the early evening sky. "It's like I can't escape it," she says. "It's getting colder when I'm awake, and when I'm asleep it's always winter. Seems like I'll never get feeling back in my toes again."

"You don't have frostbite."

"My feet are still cold." She pokes his leg with her frozen toes.

"Stop complaining and go to sleep," Hyakkimaru says, kicking her back.

"I'm not entirely sure I'd advise that," a voice says out of nowhere, and Hyakkimaru sits bolt upright with one sword extended in the direction of the voice.

It's Mizuha, standing near the fire. "Did you have to terrify us like that?"

"Only you were terrified," Dororo says with a yawn.

Mizuha smiles at her.

"Why you wouldn't advise sleep?" Hyakkimaru says as he lowers his sword. "Is there something wrong with Dororo's dreams?"

"The dreams are not dreams," Mizuha says. "They are memories of the last demon that possessed the spear's power."

"What does that mean?" Dororo asks.

"Hundreds of years ago," Mizuha says, "Kaga and Asakura were part of a single province. Then there was a terrible war--gods, demons, humans all caught up in it. Because of that war, new borders were made. New factions developed, along with ways for consolidating power."

"I'm...not sure I follow," Dororo says.

"Kaga's demons are the ones you're most familiar with," Mizuha says, "so I'll start with those. Most were--still are, among the minor demons--beasts, at least in shape. Very powerful as warriors, but less valuable as servants. They also tend to be destructive, so I taught a human how to seal them away."

"Unga, son of Unkei," Hyakkimaru interjects. He had seen the name on a plaque on the lowest level of the Hall of Hell.

"So his name is remembered after all," Mizuha mutters. "I warned him not to undertake the task alone, but he did it all the same. It drove him mad."

"What does this have to to with me?" Dororo asks.

"Asakura's demons are not all--or even mostly--beasts," Mizuha says. "Most are humanoid. Intelligent. Manipulative. Sealing the greater demons away would prove almost impossible, which is why Hikari has chosen to control and manipulate them instead." Mizuha nods to herself. "Though not all of them."

"Huh?" Dororo asks.

"Hikari recognized the need for a powerful weapon against Kaga's army of beast-like demons," she says. "So he sealed some of his most powerful servants into tools. Swords, axes, shields--and spears."

Dororo nods in slow understanding. "So I'm...getting the memories of a demon. Great." She squares her shoulders. "Any idea which one?"

Mizuha extends a hand and asks, "May I touch you? I may be able to determine its nature."

Dororo nods, a little apprehensively, as Mizuha approaches and lays a single finger on her forehead.

Mizuha's eyes narrow a little in surprise. "You're no longer human," she says with a sad, tight-lipped smile. "The human that was you died under Asakura castle. You are being animated by demonic magic, much like our demon slayer friend," she says, gesturing to Hyakkimaru with her free hand. 

Dororo's jaw goes slack. "What do you mean, I'm not human? I'm not--soulless or limbless or deformed or--"

Hyakkimaru winces, and Dororo quickly corrects herself. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I say stupid shit when I'm upset. Sorry." She hides her face in her hands, and Hyakkimaru puts a hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right," he says. "Us not-humans have to stick together."

"Very funny," she says as she peeks apprehensively through her fingers. "I--don't feel dead. I feel totally human and fine and I thought we fixed everything with Kouhei and Asakura. I don't understand this."

"You are still absorbing the memories, and the demonic magic that comes with them," Mizuha says. "Your experience of this power may change. Your body may change." She shakes her head. "But there's no doubt in my mind that you are something more than human now."

Dororo stands up straight and looks at Hyakkimaru. "What am I gonna tell Daigo?"

"Why do you have to tell him anything?"

She smiles. "There's an idea." The smile collapses. "But...wait. I can't be the heir anymore."

Hyakkimaru stares at her. "Why?"

"Mizuha," she says, "if I'm dead or not human or whatever, doesn't that mean that...that..." She squares her shoulders and juts out her chin as if she is gathering courage for what comes next. "I can't have children?"

"Correct," Mizuha says.

"Shit," Hyakkimaru says. "That's--a big deal."

Dororo nods absently. While she'd only ever considered having children in an abstract way, having the option taken away from her completely is a shock. 

"If I go back I need to disinherit myself," she mutters, "and if I don't go back, Daigo will blame you for my death," Dororo says as she looks up at Hyakkimaru. "And even if I do disinherit myself, it's a complete shitshow. What do I do? Is there a cure for--whatever this is? Can I just be human again?"

"Mizuha," Hyakkimaru says, "tell her."

Mizuha nods somberly. "Yes, there is," she says. "But you would need to go to the youkai realm, and kill the demon whose magic you currently possess."

"All right," Dororo says with a firm nod. "Good idea, yeah, I like that. More demons to kill. Let's do that." She bumps shoulders with Hyakkimaru.

"It's--not quite that simple," Hyakkimaru says. "Mizuha would have to send you back in time to when the demon got imprisoned in the spear."

"Oh, not so far as that," Mizuha says. "Only before the moment when the magic from the spear passed from Kouhei into you."

"But then the spear would be powerless," Hyakkimaru says, "and Dororo would die. The spear's magic is what saved her in the first place."

"Dororo _might_ die," Mizuha corrects. "But without the power from the spear, I doubt Kouhei would be able to defeat you. Either one of you."

Hyakkimaru frowns. "Won't that be interfering too much with Hikari? Wouldn't he retaliate again?"

Dororo looks back and forth between them. "Tokku said Hikari reacted to you being saved," she says, nodding to Hyakkimaru. "Maybe relying on a god's intervention isn't a good idea."

Mizuha shrugs. "Suit yourself. I wouldn't wait too long to make a decision, though. The longer you wait, the more you'll change." She lowers her head and vanishes, leaving sparks in her wake.

"...change?" Dororo asks the empty air.

"You need to tell me if you feel any different at all," Hyakkimaru says. "I don't know what's wrong, exactly, but I live with demon magic, too. It's not necessarily a death sentence."

"I wonder if you can have children," Dororo says, frowning.

"I have no idea and haven't thought about it," he says. "I have the kids in Konzo, remember?"

She nods. "Yeah, I guess. Adoption could work. I could adopt kids. I could adopt _your_ kids, even." She grins. "Okay, I think I can go back to Daigo and not be terrified now. Thanks."

"...I'm not sure what I did, but you're welcome?"

"You reminded me that there are always options beyond the obvious," she says. "It's like my old man always said--if there's an unbeatable monster in front of you and an unscalable wall behind you, go sideways." She crawls back under the blankets of her bedroll and extends her arms wide. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, then sits bolt upright so fast that her blankets go flying, blown off into the autumn wind.

She ignores them.

"Hyakki," she says. "The cold. It's the _cold_ that's different. I feel like I'm freezing all the time." She nods to herself. "I missed it because the weather's getting colder and I thought it was normal, but it's--not."

Hyakkimaru catches the blankets before they blow away, and rearranges them so that she is completely covered from her neck to her feet. He crawls under the blankets with her and extends his hand. She takes it, and he rubs it in between both of his, but it doesn't get any warmer.

"At least I can't freeze to death," Dororo jokes feebly. 

"You already died," Hyakkimaru says. "Don't minimize that."

"Why not? I feel fine. Cold...and can't say I'm too happy about the idea of dreaming as a demon. But I'm all right."

Hyakkimaru tucks her frozen hand deeper into the blankets. "I'll build the fire higher," he says, "and I'll wake you when it's your time to watch."

"Stop worrying about me, please," she says.

"I can't," he says.

"At least let me worry about myself," she says. "I'm better at it. Had years of practice."

***

Little changes over the next few days. The sun sets earlier and earlier, so Dororo and Hyakkimaru travel a lot more at night. They cross the final ford separating Asakura and Takeda lands, and have to send the horses back as the terrain gets too rugged for the animals to navigate. Dororo also starts sleeping longer, and becomes harder to wake. 

At the same time, her dreams become more immersive. She is able to investigate who she is in the dream without waking, and consequently discovers that she's male (which feels...weird), not very old, and not entirely human. She'd figured that last bit out while running in the dream--her heart rate hadn't gone up at all. When she'd tried to take her pulse, the body had fought her, but she's still sure that whoever she is in the dream doesn't have an ordinary human circulatory system.

They're smart, though. In her dreams, she is usually hunting or tracking--always alone: a lone survivor out in the middle of nowhere, Hokkaido or the northern islands maybe. They never build a fire, though she tries to several times; the body fights her each time, and it's an alien sensation, being in someone's head without being able to control their actions or movements.

Whenever she wakes up, she tells Hyakkimaru about her dreams, but neither one of them figure out why she is having them, or what their effect is supposed to be.

"Do you feel any different?" This is usually Hyakkimaru's first question to her these days.

"No. Just cold. And not any colder than normal." Her body had reached a sort of baseline state and remained there. 

"Did you see anything you recognized? Anything that could help us trace this demon's history?"

"I don't recognize the location," she says. "I think the demon comes from further north."

"So Mizuha lied?"

"Or Hikari recruited demons from more than just Asakura," Dororo says.

Hyakkimaru nods thoughtfully. "Right. Well, I wouldn't put that past him. You're sleeping more soundly, and that's a problem if we're attacked at night. I hope your dreams show you something useful soon."

"You and me both," she says.

"No physical changes, aside from always being cold?" he asks in his doctor tone.

"None."

***

The next night, Dororo dreams of pathless wilderness again, but her perspective is completely different. She is used to seeing herself in these dreams as a man with huge furry hands and a spear, but when she looks down this time, she has white paws--and four legs instead of two.

Huh?

The spear is nowhere to be seen. She crunches over snow, her vision distorted by strange colors; she sniffs the ground and catches the scent of bigger game: probably bear, and more distantly, elk. She climbs into a tree and curls up, then feels her perspective shift again as her head shoots up and her fox tail vanishes. When she looks down she sees the old familiar furry hands that she is used to.

The familiar spear, too, is close at hand: hidden in the tree before her fox-self had climbed it. She waits a few minutes; in a short while, a large grizzled brown bear with a scarred ear comes into view, and Dororo picks up the spear and hurls it straight and true as a javelin.

It pierces the bear's chest, and the animal howls as it bleeds onto the snow below it. Dororo changes back into a fox and darts further up the tree rapidly, watching and waiting as the bear thrashes below her. She stays in the tree until the bear is still, then shimmies down the trunk of the tree in her fox form. Her breath mists in her whiskers. The bear's blood stains her paws.

Then she wakes up.

"Hyakki," she says. "I think the demon is a shapeshifter."

"Huh?" he asks in a voice gone hoarse from cold air. "Then can you--change shape?"

Good question. She thinks about the sensation she'd felt when changing into a fox and back again, but she can't seem to trigger an actual change. "I can't," she says. "So I guess I don't have the demon's powers."

"I don't have all the powers of Kaga's demons, either," he says. "I don't think the transfer of power is that simple." A pause. "What did you turn into? In the dream?"

"A fox."

He snorts. "Typical."

"Huh?"

"Don't you remember Kyuubi?"

The nine-tailed fox at Banmon. She remembers. "I wasn't a fox like that," she says. "Just...an ordinary fox. I get the feeling that the demon's just trying to survive, mind its own business. I still don't know how it got trapped in the spear, or what will happen to me because of it." She flips over onto her stomach and rests on her elbows. "And before you ask--no changes."

"Good," he says. "I may be wrong, but the fact that your dreams changed might be a sign of some reaction on the demon's part."

"What do you mean?"

"When I got my body parts back," he says, "I'd get a chunk of sensations with them. Mostly pain, sure, but...well, when I killed the antlion, I got a quick glimpse of something. Something digging holes with steep sides and waiting for prey to fall in." He frowns. "When I killed the Nue, I became so enraged I would have killed anything. It took hours to calm down." He stops.

"So," Dororo says, "you think the demon is trying to tell me something? Make me feel a certain way?"

"Yeah, maybe." He glances at her sidelong. "You're shivering like crazy."

"Well, duh. I've been freezing for weeks." She rubs her arms, and Hyakkimaru puts his blanket over her, then feeds the fire. When it's high enough to burn on its own for a few hours, he crawls back under the blankets with her and rubs her arms while she focuses on warming her chest.

"It's not working," Dororo says. "So you can stop groping my freezing limbs, please."

His hands go utterly still; inside of five seconds he pulls his hands away from her as sharply as if he'd been burned.

Hyakkimaru feels sweat form on the back of his neck despite the cold.

"Poor choice of words," Dororo says apologetically. "It's mean of me to tease you. Sorry. I know you're not interested in groping me, and I'm not after it, not from you." She folds her hands under her chin and glances at him out of the corner of her eye, as if she's afraid of his reaction, and says: "Not having sex doesn't make me love you any less, you know."

"Huh?"

She raises her head off her hands and looks at him properly. "We talked a long time ago about this. I haven't asked you for anything remotely sexual since. I never will, if that's what you want. But that doesn't mean--" 

She pauses. Hyakkimaru looks at her, but offers no word of censure or judgment. He sits as if rooted to the spot as the fire crackles in front of them and the moon rises overhead.

"When I was a kid," Dororo continues hesitantly, "I didn't want to use guilt or obligation to keep you with me," she says. "It's the same now. I want you here because we accomplish amazing things together. We saved Enuma. I couldn't have done it without you."

"I wasn't there," Hyakkimaru says.

"And you saved it anyway. And built Konzo--"

"Iwasa and Kaguya did more than me," he says.

"And we have fucking peace with Asakura, which everyone from Daigo on down thought was impossible."

Silence.

"No pawning off credit to others this time?" she asks. "Good. I hate it when you do that." She punches him lightly on the shoulder. "You make me a better person. You help me do amazing things. That's why I love you. It's the main reason. I don't want anything from you, other than that."

"I--" He shakes his head. "You're serious?"

"If there were a way to not have Daigo hunt you down," she says, "I'd travel Japan killing monsters and saving people with you until I died. That's what I liked doing, and who I liked being. A sneak-thief and monster killer for hire." She stretches out on her back, eyes tracking the moon. "Who I am now is...complicated."

"Complicated? How?"

"I'm a samurai's daughter," she says. "I almost got cut down at Daigo's wedding because I couldn't run in the stupid dress they put me in. I have political position and appearances to keep up and can be used as a pawn in any alliance Daigo wants. The education is sometimes useful, but exhausting. My parents are probably rolling in their graves over it--dad was killed by samurai bastards." 

She pauses and takes a deep breath. "I'm glad I helped save Enuma's people," she says, "but they don't need me. They haven't, really, not in years, since Daigo's mellowed out so much. I feel like I've already accomplished everything great in my life that I could have. When I get married, I'll be hidden away, only allowed to influence things indirectly. I hate that."

Hyakkimaru nods. "That's why I don't want to get married, either."

"Why? Because you'll be hidden away, pinned in one place?"

"No," he says, "because I don't like the idea of limiting a woman's choices that much. I've--seen that, up close." He remembers how caged Nui no Kata had been, and Kyouko, too, to a lesser extent. "I also don't like the idea of sacrificing everything I am for the sake of family. It's--not really who I am."

"Yeah," Dororo says, "I can't see that. Hyakkimaru the filial son." She chuckles, and it turns into a full blown laugh that makes her shoulders shake.

The silence that follows her laughter is profound. Hyakkimaru considers her position and what returning to Kaga would mean, and is torn by indecision. "Do you really have to go back to Kaga?"

"Yeah," she says with a heavy sigh. "I think so. Daigo'll come after me if I don't." She rolls over, turning away from him. "G'night."

"Good night."

Hyakkimaru doesn't sleep at all that night.

***

The next day they pass from Asakura territory into disputed Takeda territory--and another person appears in Dororo's dreams for the first time.

She's at a deep blue riverbed cleaning fish guts from her eternally frozen hands when she sees a long shadow out of the corner of her eye. She leaps away from the streambed and crouches down, minimizing herself as a target.

"Who are you?" Dororo asks the shadow.

She watches the shadow draw closer: a figure in a wide fur cap, high boots, and a cloak to keep off the worst of the bad weather. Unarmed, as far as she can tell--but that doesn't mean he isn't dangerous.

The man squints at her and adjusts his clothing. "I am Hikari, lord of this province and many others, and you would do well to not forget it."

"Oh," Dororo says, bowing her head instinctively at the word "lord." He doesn't look like the Hikari she knows, but he has the same pompous way of speaking. "Yes, of course, I'm sorry. But then...who am I supposed to be?" she asks.

She expects the body to fight against her asking, but it seems like she can talk easily enough. Perhaps this demon is some kind of idiot savant--great at surviving, crap at talking. It would make sense: the demon has clearly been alone for a long time.

"My reports said you were intelligent," Hikari says. "It seems they were mistaken."

"Did you come here to test me or something? Uh--lord," she adds. She doesn't know if Hikari would be here for another reason. She wants to ask, but Hikari answers before she gets the chance.

"Yes," Hikari says. "Are you prepared to be tested?"

"Sure. I mean, yes lord." She bows her head a little again. 

Hikari's spear swipes at her head so fast she barely has time to duck. She stumbles back a step and fumbles for her own spear, which comes up to block Hikari's next overhead strike. She pushes Hikari's speartip down and lunges at him; he sidesteps the hit and uses her closeness to land a solid kick to her gut.

It hurts, but not in a way she's used to. It feels like something's broken, but it also doesn't feel very serious. She presses the attack, glad for her spear training under Daigo; the spear is not her preferred weapon, but it is for the man she's fighting as, and all the patterns and strikes she knows are executed with more strength and precision thanks to his expertise.

She is just starting to learn his moves when Hikari trips her with treacherous footwork and gets her down. As she's getting up, he shoves down her guard hard and stabs her in the chest.

It doesn't hurt. Well, it does, but not as badly as it should--and there's no blood. She glances down at where the spear went in, and sees that the tip has been encased in solid ice. 

So she's some kind of ice demon? 

Well, that's useful for not taking damage. Having Hikari's spear stuck on the front of her shoulder feels like the pins and needles of a limb falling asleep, but it's not painful.

She tries to will herself into fox shape and run away from Hikari, but the body fights her. She crouches down with her shoulders in and her spear raised in a posture of protection, and Hikari takes a step back and slow claps.

"I see you are worthy and intelligent after all," Hikari says. He yanks his spear out of Dororo's chest, and ice splinters in all directions as it comes loose. "Come, and be my servant."

Dororo hesitates. She wants to refuse, but the body fights her again: she gets a vague sensation that she recognizes as a twisted form of masculine honor. The person whose skin she's wearing had been defeated in combat. His enemy's life is his to do with as he wishes. Something like that. 

So Dororo is not allowed to refuse, but she still asks: "What does service to you entail, exactly?"

"I shall channel your powers, so that they may be used at will," he says. "Together, we shall defend this land from invaders--and from monsters."

"All right," Dororo says. That doesn't sound like a bad outcome, from either her or the demon's point of view. "How do my powers get channeled, or whatever?"

Hikari takes the demon's spear and holds it away from his body horizontally, in both hands. He removes his hands, but the spear stays in place, glowing gradually brighter, and Dororo has a second to think *I recognize that* before her mind is eclipsed by bliding white agony.

She looks down at her fuzzy gargantuan hands, trying to focus past the pain, and discovers that they, too, are glowing. She glares up at Hikari, and a not-entirely-involuntary growl escapes her throat.

Imprisoned inside her own weapon.

It's a bad way to go.

"Hyakki," she gasps out in a voice she can barely hear, "you can wake me up now."

***

"You were out a long time," Hyakkimaru says when she finally comes to.

She blinks and rubs her eyes. Crust has gathered at all four corners of them. "Shit, I gotta pee." She flees her bedroll to go relieve herself, then returns to the fire.

"Becoming a spear hurts like holy hell," Dororo says as she plops back down, almost on top of the fire. "No wonder the demon wanted me to see that. I'm sure it doesn't like Hikari. Respect him, maybe, but doesn't like him."

"I wonder if you'll have more dreams now," he says.

"You mean because it's just a spear after that? Yeah, I don't know. Maybe I will, maybe I won't--but I feel funny." She rests her face in her hands. "I still think I want to kill this demon."

"Even though you might die if you do?"

She shakes her head. "We don't know that."

"I don't like taking the risk."

"Noted." She sighs, then rubs her arms hard, trying to restore feeling to her numb limbs. Hyakkimaru gets up and puts a blanket around her shoulders. It doesn't help.

"Give me a spear," she says. "I want to try something."

"I don't have one, but I can get you one when we pass by Konzo," he says. "I also sent a message to Biwamaru, through the kappas. We should get some idea of where he is in the next few days."

Dororo's teeth clack together. "Good."

***

Dororo has no more dreams over the next few days, but the cold inside her cuts through to bone, making it hard to sleep. Hyakkimaru keeps boiling broth for soup and water for tea and hot water bottles, but nothing helps. She definitely feels herself getting colder.

Despite that, none of the demon's other powers manifest. She can't turn to ice at will, and she can't shapeshift, no matter how often she tries. "I definitely got the raw end of the deal here," she complains.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you get super strength and reflexes and healing and the ability to turn into a goddamn monster when you're hurt bad enough, and all I get is lucid dreams and a lousy never-ending case of body chills."

His mouth quirks upward. "Well, when you put it that way..." Then he frowns. "I heard from Tokku this morning. Biwamaru is looking for us. If he can't do anything to help you, I'll go to the youkai realm with you and help kill the demon."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

They walk at a somewhat leisurely place through the low foothills of a mountain for most of the day. They reach the edge of a mountain grove at sunset, and the dying light of the sun catches the red and gold leaves of the autumn trees. Dororo's eyes go wide with appreciation.

"I remember trying to teach you 'red' with this," she says, gesturing to the trees. 

"Oh yeah," he says with a nod. "Kind of hard without eyes, though."

"How did you learn what red was, then?"

"After I got my eyes, the fire was red," he says. "I recognized the description. Jukai described colors to me, too, y'know."

"Ah. I guess he must have," she says. "So, did you see--any color at all, when you were--"

"Sh," he cuts her off. "We have company."

Dororo doesn't hear anything. Sure enough, though, a shadow lengthens along the side of the road, revealing Biwamaru with his lute and cane. His shoulders are a shade more stooped than Dororo remembers, but otherwise he seems much the same as ever. He grins when he recognizes them, and hobbles uphill to greet them.

"I am glad to see you among the living," he says.

"That's debatable," Dororo says with a little frown.

Biwamaru frowns in confusion. "The kappas told me you had a problem, but I did not think that either of you were dead," Biwamaru says.

"It's a long story," Dororo says.

Biwamaru's frown deepens. "Do you have food? Some tea, perhaps? I'm short on supplies, and I feel like this problem needs time. Time always passes easier after a hot meal."

Hyakkimaru nods. "There's a place to make camp in the foothills about a mile back," he says. "Should be sheltered enough for a fire."

"Lead the way," Biwamaru says.

They reach the foothills after a few minutes. Dororo builds the fire while Hyakkimaru lays out dried meat, fish, nuts and mushrooms to rest on a stone. The silence as they work is companionable and easy; Biwamaru sits and stretches his legs extravagantly as red gold leaves swirl around them in the late afternoon wind. 

Hyakkimaru transfers cooked food from the rock to thin wooden bowls, and the three of them eat. Biwamaru takes a few bites of fish and says, "Thank you." Then he faces Dororo squarely. "Can you tell me how you died?"

"I didn't mean to," she says. "We were in Asakura castle. Hyakki was duking it out with Kouhei and about to lose. I stepped in and the bastard gutted me."

"Yet you're alive--both of you."

"Sort of," Hyakkimaru says. "Apparently I turned into the Nue. Dororo fought the weapon out of Kouhei's hand. Broke it, even."

"Ah," Biwamaru says with a knowing nod. "So the weapon contained the demon. You are concerned about being possessed by a demon," he says to Dororo.

"I am possessed by one," she says. Her shoulders shake from the cold even though she's practically sitting on the fire. "It makes me frozen all the time, but I don't feel any different otherwise. I don't have any powers or anything. Not like Hyakki."

"Hm," Biwamaru says. "It seems that the demon inside you still has a will. That is why you are not able to access its powers. The manifestation of cold is a form of protection. Numbness from pain. Retreat from the unknown." He looks at Hyakkimaru. "Killing the demon would be the quickest way to dislodge it."

"Dororo might die if we do that," Hyakkimaru says. "Isn't there another way?"

"Hm." Biwamaru reaches for Dororo's hand, and stays silent for a short while. "Perhaps. You managed to subdue the beasts possessing you by defeating them in battle," he says to Hyakkimaru. "It is possible that if Dororo were to do the same, the demon might allow her control instead. Based on this demon's past, it is possible."

"Great," Dororo says. "How do I do that?"

"With an exorcism," Biwamaru says. "I can make the demon manifest, for a short time. But," he says, and his voice is mildly regretful, "without the demon to animate you, you would pass into a coma. You would be in no state to fight."

"Then I'll fight it," Hyakkimaru says.

"You will need a spear," Biwamaru says. "And the spear is not your favored weapon. Can you defeat it?"

Hyakkimaru sighs. "Probably not. You're right." He shakes his head. "I guess I need to call Mizuha. Have her send us to the youkai realm."

Biwamaru cocks his head sideways as if listening for some echo. "An interesting thought," he says, "but I think it might be easier for Dororo herself to reason with the demon."

"I can do that?" she asks, blinking surprise.

"You have been, in your dreams," Biwamaru says. "The demon shares consciousness with you. If you managed to convince it to live in a partnership, some of the less unpleasant parts of being possessed will disappear."

Dororo nods. "Kind of surprised you'd suggest this over killing or exorcising it."

"Exorcism is risky at this stage," Biwamaru says. "And this demon you cohabit with his not evil. Slightly stupid and self-interested, but not a force for cruelty and injustice. With a mind to govern it, the demon could end up doing a lot of good." His eyeless gaze shifts to Hyakkimaru.

"So," he says, "what will you do?"

Hyakkimaru turns to Dororo. "You said you haven't been having any dreams since the demon got locked in the spear," Hyakkimaru says. "How would you...make contact?"

"With something the demon values," Biwamaru answers. "This demon loved his weapon. It was part of him, and he became it. Find a worthy spear, and I think you will get the demon to talk."

"A worthy spear," Dororo says. "We're not gonna find one of those in the wilderness."

"No," Biwamaru says, "but Konzo or Enuma should have an ample supply of weapons."

Dororo and Hyakkimaru lock eyes. They need to get to Konzo as soon as possible.

***

Getting to Konzo is easier said than done. Dororo's feet go completely numb a few days after Biwamaru leaves, meaning she can't go far on foot without tripping, falling, injuring herself.

Hyakkimaru winds up carrying her piggyback style for the better part of two days, and by the time they pass through Konzo's northern gate they are both exhausted and shaking from cold. Kaguya comes out to greet them and takes them into the kitchen for tea and steamed rice and fish, after which Dororo collapses into a sleep like numb unconsciousness.

It's dark outside when she wakes up. She rubs her hands together as a reflex action, but no amount of friction's about to make her warmer. She'd fallen asleep in her clothes; Hyakkimaru is in the next room over, probably asleep. Having woken up like this, she's restless; despite her exhaustion, she's nervous, high-strung: she wants to do something about how fucking cold she is. 

There are no obvious paths. She's caught between the unscalable wall and the unbeatable monster.  
  
But she knows that she needs a spear if she's going to progress.   
  
Giving up on trying to sleep, she crawls out of her room and gets shakily to her feet. There's a weapons store in the basement of this building: all old Takeda weapons from the rebellion Iwasa put down. Dororo has only ever been there once or twice, but it's possible that there's a spear there worth salvaging. And she doubts she could make it to the armory on the other side of the estate with her feet in their current condition.

She manages the stairs down to the basement by extending her legs and using her arms and butt to crawl forward. It's not dignified by any means, but she feels better just by moving. If she finds a decent spear, she may be able to prod the demon into action. Any action. Anything's better than being stuck like this.

She gets her her feet at the bottom of the stairs and limps toward the weapon racks along the far left wall, walking half-speed. She rifles through the spear racks, trying to find a spear that's less standard and more special. She digs toward the back of a rack along one dusty corner and discovers a long spear somewhat like a naginata; the point is bladed and curved, but it's not as long as she's seen on most other weapons of the type. She lifts it and checks the point for tarnish and strength, and for all its long neglect the weapon seems to be in good condition. 

Dororo lifts the spear up and tries out a few moves: a deep lunge, an umbrella block, a wide sweep. She tries to take a step back for the sweep and loses her footing on her numb feet; she stumbles down to one knee.

When she looks up, she sees a woman directly in front of her, holding a spear. The woman is dressed identically to herself, and the weapon is the same. She's looking at herself.

She blinks rapidly, but the image doesn't change. "Who, ah--what are you? The demon?"

She watches her own face contort into something like a grimace, and remembers that the demon hadn't really been one for talk.

"You like this spear?" she asks, holding the hybridized naginata out for the demon's inspection.

Her doppelganger gives her a fierce grin.

"Okay," she says. "What did Biwamaru say...I have to impress you somehow. This is some kind of pissing contest. Brilliant. If only I could stay on my feet long enough to actually fight..." She hoists herself up, using the spear's shaft to balance herself as she adjusts her footing, and realizes that she's regained feeling in her lower limbs.

"...huh?"

She looks at the demon. The demon just shrugs.

Scant seconds later, a whooshing strike comes at her head, almost too fast for her to track; she weaves to the side and brings up her own spear to protect herself. The spear tips touch, letting out a clang of metal that can probably be heard throughout the house.

Dammit. 

She aims a jab at the demon's legs, but the demon jumps nimbly back and attempts to trip her instead. She jumps over her enemy's spear and uses her closeness to the demon to execute an elbow strike to its jaw.

The strike connects, and the demon winces in pain. She winces in sympathy; it's hard to see yourself suffering no matter the circumstances. The demon smiles at her again, showing off a mouth full of blood.

There's a sudden sound of rushing footsteps. Hyakkimaru appears at the bottom of the stairs, looking harried. "What the hell is going on?"

His gaze flicks back and forth between her and the demon wearing her face. "Do I even want to ask why there's two of you?"

"Biwamaru was right," Dororo says. "Finding a spear triggered the demon. It wants to fight me."

Hyakkimaru looks at the demon. "Are you sure you can defeat it?"

"Only one way to find out," she says. She adjusts her grip on the spear and sweeps it up, over her head to block an incoming swipe from above.

Hyakkimaru stands with his back to the wall, hands twitching, clearly wanting to help and knowing that any help he did give would violate the rules of single combat. Dororo ignores him completely and focuses on her opponent--somewhat successfully: for every time she falls, she trips the demon, and vice versa.

They seem to be evenly matched. They circle one another, using shallow testing moves for the most part, only ocassionally striking out in earnest. Dororo's mind races as she thinks for a way to defeat the demon--and she remembers the move that Hikari had used to trip the demon, all those years ago. She'd only seen it once, but she thinks it went something like...

Her spear darts between the demon's legs, then up towards its navel; the demon jumps to avoid the hit, and while he's off-balance, Dororo performs a quick sweep that lands the demon on its ass.

She brings up the spear and places the tip between the demon's eyes. Her own dark eyes reflect admiration and something like greed back at her; it makes her feel deeply uneasy. With a hard push, she opens the skin of her own forehead and slashes down the demon's face to its neck.

She steps back and waits for the demon to bleed to death. It twitches for a long time, writhing in blood, but makes no further move to attack her.

Hyakkimaru steps away from the wall. "Are you--you?"

"What do you mean?" she asks with a frown.

"I'm asking if it's you that won, or the demon."

"Oh," she says. "Me, I think."

He stares at her. "That is not reassuring."

"I don't know how to prove that I'm me," she says. "If I were one of Asakura's demons I could probably read minds anyway. But I'm not a demon," she says. "I'm just--kinda possessed by one."

"Not anymore, maybe," Hyakkimaru says as he nods toward the demon's corpse. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," she says. "Great." She flexes her no-longer-frozen fingers. "As soon as I started fighting, it wasn't cold anymore." She takes a deep breath and exhales, closing her eyes. In the span of time it takes for her to blink, she transforms into a large--almost human-sized--white fox.

Hyakkimaru takes a step backward. His eyes flick immediately to the tail, and he relaxes a fraction when he sees only one. Even if Dororo is some kind of kitsune, she's not obviously related to any of the three-, six-, and nine-tailed kitsune he'd killed on his quest to regain his body.

A second later, Dororo morphs into her normal shape. "It worked!" she says. "It finally worked--I've been trying to do that for weeks."

"That's one of the demon's powers?"

"Yeah," she says. "I turn into a fox. Am I cute?"

"Huh?"

"As a fox, I mean."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. I guess. For a large arctic predator."

Dororo frowns. "What do you mean? How big am I? I never got used to depth perception in fox form, and it's hard to see what you look like..."

"You turned into a white fox, about your same size, with one tail."

She grins happily. "Imagine how fast I can run now!"

Remembering her numb feet over the past few days, Hyakkimaru smiles. "Well, that's one advantage, anyway."

"Oh," she says, "there's one more thing I want to try." She tosses her spear to Hyakkimaru, who catches it in surprise; she searches for the demon's spear--a copy of hers--but it's disappeared. She picks up one of the more workmanlike spears from a rack in the corner, and bows to Hyakkimaru: a gesture of respect before a sparring match.

Hyakkimaru bows back, a little awkwardly. "What are you trying to test?"

"I'm not sure but..." She shrugs. "I want you to hit me with your best shot."

"You're serious?"

"Go for it. I want to test these powers out."

"The spear's not really my weapon, y'know," he says.

"Yeah, I know," she says. "I'm more interested in--well." She puts her own spear to the side, and extends her arms wide like a sacrifice. "Stab me."

"What?"

"Stab me. As hard as you can. I'm sure I won't get hurt."

"...how sure?"

"Like, uh, ninety percent sure," she says. "And besides, if I get hurt you're right here, right?"

Hyakkimaru mutters something inaudible that sounds like a curse. He faces her, bows a little, and goes in for a lunging strike to her shoulder that she doesn't bother blocking.

When the tip of his spear hits her shoulder, the entire head up to the shaft is encased in solid ice. He tries to remove the weapon from her shoulder, but it's stuck. She flicks it with a finger, and the ice shatters; her skin beneath the ice is whole and unblemished.

"I guess I'm an ice demon now," she says. "That's pretty cool, huh?"

Hyakkimaru kicks her in the leg for making such a terrible pun.


	22. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's too late to save my parents," Dororo says, "and it's too late to save your family from the wreck Daigo made of it. But it's not too late to save the world."
> 
> "You might want to lower your expectations," he says.
> 
> "No way," she says. "I never said I'd be doing it alone."
> 
> "You and me against the world?" he asks with a somewhat hopeless smile.
> 
> "Sure, why not? Think we'll be crushed?"
> 
> A pause.
> 
> "Nah," he says, and half-believes it. He glances at the sun rising through the trees to their left. The wind is at their back now.
> 
> "Come on," Hyakkimaru says. "Let's go home."

Dororo and Hyakkimaru leave Konzo the next morning, borrowing fresh horses so that they can reach Enuma as fast as possible. Hyakkimaru continues to struggle with sleep as they travel. This is partly because Dororo has become obsessed with testing her new powers, which causes all kinds of unpleasant side effects when they camp.

"Can you maybe not turn to ice right next to the fire?" he asks for what feels like the tenth time. "It keeps going out."

"I'm trying to work on better control," she says. "And I didn't complain when you threw rocks fifty million times to figure out how your ears worked."

It's a fair point. He'd done a decent amount of experimentation with his senses, hearing and smell especially. But his experiments had never caused a fire to go out in late autumn. Repeatedly.

The sound of her turning partial limbs into ice also spooks the horses.

And then there are the times when she tries to sneak past him in her fox form. She hasn't been successful, not yet, but constant vigilance has forced him into what feels like a permanent state of fatigue.

He can't sleep, though, no matter how tired he gets. He stares at the sky and thinks about leaving Dororo alone in Kaga with Daigo and assassins and a life of obscurity, and he rejects the idea with every fiber of his being. But he can't stay in Kaga with her--and he won't be in a position to help her much at all once she's married.

If only there was a way to preserve Dororo's social standing while removing her from Daigo's influence. 

Daigo needs an heir. Dororo can't have children. They can use that fact to get her disinherited, but what then? Kaga is still somewhat unstable--resources stretched too thin from the mobilization and fighting in spring and summer. Giving Daigo the peace treaty with Asakura should help smooth some things over, but leaving Daigo without an heir, even with the peace treaty, is risky.

"You think too loud," Dororo mutters.

"Huh?"

"You're doing it again," she says. "Thinking so hard I can almost hear it from over here." A pause. "What are you thinking about?"

"What to do when we get to Kaga," he says. The more he thinks of it, the more he considers the possibility of a political marriage with Dororo. They're best friends; they understand each other; he can watch over her if he's with her. It makes sense.

But it feels wrong. 

He'd only be locking himself in the same cage with Dororo. In Kaga, with Daigo, which he hates. He can't condemn himself to a life he hates, even for the greater good. There has to be a better way.

"What do you think we should do?" Dororo asks. Her speech is slightly slurred; she sounds as tired as he does.

"I think we need to strengthen ties with your allies," he says, "for appearance's sake if nothing else." He yawns. "But I don't see how."

"Yeah," she says. "I guess I could marry Iwasa or something. It would be weird."

Hyakkimaru shakes his head; that would be beyond weird. He rejects that idea as well. His thoughts blur together; his leg twitches with a myoclonic jerk and he sits up.

"Wait a minute," he says. "I have an idea. I think..."

The appearance of strength and unity are what's important here. If Daigo's heir marries the Takeda heir, that looks good from the outside. But how many people--outside immediate friends and family--know what they look like up close? How many people would recognize their feudal lord on the street?

He sees a way out for Dororo--for both of them--but it's dangerous.

"Dororo," Hyakkimaru says. "This idea...well, you have to be sure about this. Absolutely sure, or I won't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"How we can travel Japan and kill monsters and save people. Together."

"You mean there's a way?"

He nods. "I think so."

She smiles at him, all teeth, and kicks her legs up in some kind of reflex reaction like excitement. "Tell me."

  
***

Hyakkimaru's plan involves a lot of moving pieces, and he is not comfortable progressing with the plan unless everyone is on board. He suspects the hardest one to convince will be Daigo, but he has a plan for that as well.

Their first order of business is to backtrack to Konzo. he needs Iwasa, Kaguya, Tarou and Akiko as conspirators first, or there's no way the plan will work. He could also use help from Daigo's spies in helping them disappear, and the help of another lord to cover their tracks once they have. 

Iwasa lets them through the northern gate at daybreak less than two days after they'd left, and his eyebrows go up. "Didn't expect to see you so soon," he says "Are you hurt? Were you attacked?"

"Nothing like that," Hyakkimaru says. "I need to talk to you, though. It's urgent. Call Kaguya and the kids. We need to have a meeting."

Iwasa's eyes widen. He helps lead their horses off to be brushed down and fed, then leads them inside. Some ex-Takeda rebels bring Dororo and Hyakkimaru tea and onigiri while Iwasa puts out the call for Akiko, Tarou, and Kaguya.

Akiko arrives first, in a sleeping yukata. "Sun's not even up yet," she mutters before helping herself to tea.

Tarou comes in after her, looking more alert but also slightly annoyed. He ignores the tea in favor of the food, and takes a seat close to Akiko on a floor cushion.

Kaguya and Iwasa come in last, and while they don't exactly appear alert they're not as grumpy or disheveled as Akiko. Hyakkimaru's eyes flick from Akiko to Tarou to Iwasa and Kaguya back to Dororo. Dororo locks gazes with him, and nods.

"I, uh," Dororo says. "Well, this is hard to explain. A little while ago, I...died."

"You look good for a corpse," Akiko says.

"Thanks," Dororo says. "I have a demon's magic. That's why I look alive. But," she says with a frown, "I can't have children, and the more I think about it, the more I don't want to get married, anyway."

"Understandable," Kaguya says with a firm nod. 

"So..." She looks over to Hyakkimaru.

"So," he echoes, "I'd like to ask a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Tarou asks sleepily.

He scoots closer to Tarou and lays a hand on his shoulder. "How tall are you?" he asks.

"Six feet. Two inches shorter than you," he says with a pout of dissatisfaction. "Why?"

Dororo asks, "And how tall are you, Akiko?"

"Same as you, I think," she says, swallowing around her onigiri. "Why do you ask?"

"How would you like to be me?" Dororo asks.

Tarou's eyes light up in recognition of what's being asked, and he says, "You want to make Akiko Daigo's heir? And me the heir to the Takeda clan?"

"It's not what I want, exactly," Hyakkimaru says. "But I couldn't think of another way to preserve peace in Kaga while staying away from Daigo. It's a selfish request," he says, "and it's a request, not an order. You can refuse. I won't be mad."

Dororo nods.

"Hm," Akiko says. "What would we need to do, as you?"

"Good question," Hyakkimaru says. "Pretty much what you're doing now. Sword and spear training. Budgets and accounts. You'll have to learn manners," Hyakkimaru says, and Akiko makes a face, "but I suspect you know them already."

"Yeah," she says with an expansive smile. "I can fake nice all I want, if I have to. Doesn't sound like fun."

"So you refuse?" Dororo asks.

"I never said that," Akiko says. "What else would I have to do? Why do you two need to give up your identities all of a sudden?"

"Well," Dororo says. "I can't produce heirs, so I'm a bad pick for creating lasting stability in Kaga. And Hyakkimaru will probably kill Daigo if they're kept in close proximity for too long. So..." 

Akiko nods in slow understanding. "And what will you two be doing?"

"Traveling," Hyakkimaru says. "Killing demons and monsters. Building up towns like Konzo."

"Would we see you again?" Iwasa asks quietly.

"Yes," he says with conviction. "Not for a while--not until Daigo loses the trail--but there will be ways to contact us, ways you can use wherever we are. If I'm alive, I'll return. I promise."

"Me, too," Dororo says.

"There's one other thing," Hyakkimaru says. "If possible--it's not required, but--it would look good for Kaga if you and Tarou got married," he says to Akiko.

Akiko snorts. "Like I'd ever marry anyone else."

Tarou blushes, but he nods. "I, uh...actually thought we'd never get the chance. Raised in the same household and all."

"Wouldn't have stopped me anyway," Akiko says airily.

Dororo and Hyakkimaru share relieved glances, glad that there's no barrier there, at least.

"So, what do you think?" Dororo asks. "Will you do it?"

Akiko shrugs. "I don't imagine Daigo will like this," she says. "Convince him somehow, and I'll agree. I don't want to be fighting for my life in that damn palace of his twenty-four-seven."

Tarou says, "I don't need convincing." He looks at Hyakkimaru. "You're the only person I ever wanted to be. I hope I do you justice."

Hyakkimaru smiles at him. "You already do."

***

Convincing Daigo is definitely going to be the hard part, which means that Hyakkimaru needs a backup plan. He, Dororo, Tarou and Akiko ride off at the crack of dawn toward Enuma at full speed. The cold weather has hardened the sloppier patches of road, and they make good time.

Hyakkimaru pauses at a river to call on Tokku or one of his kappas to send a message. A gray-gold kappa with six limbs instead of the usual four answers the summons. Hyakkimaru whispers in his ear, and he goes paddling down the river.

"What did you say?" Akiko asks.

"I called in another favor," he says. "The kappas are going to tell us when it's Oosuji or Kurakawa's turn outside. Then we'll meet them outside the city."

"And they'll help us?" Tarou asks.

"Probably," Hyakkimaru says. He'd once asked Oosuji to make him disappear. She should have some ideas how to do that.

They take a break at the river and eat. Dororo practices spear forms by the far shore while Akiko corrects her stances; Tarou rummages through his bags to make sure he's brought everything he needs for an extended stay away from home. Hyakkimaru watches, and eats, and hopes this plan goes well. If it doesn't, he's putting his kids in danger.

They break camp and get on the road again, but they've only traveled a few minutes when they're intercepted by a man on a horse. It's Kurakawa, a little out of breath. 

Apparently he was nearby.

"Some freakish mutant thing I almost killed told me I'd find you on this road," he says. "What the hell was that thing?"

"A kappa," Hyakkimaru says. "They're my friends, otherwise that one might've drowned you."

Kurakawa swallows heavily.

Hyakkimaru dismounts, and Dororo follows suit; Akiko and Tarou jump off their horses and lead them in a line off the road. They hitch the horses to trees, and Hyakkimaru calls out to Kurakawa, "Did the kappa say anything about a favor?"

"Should have known you'd be calling it in," Kurakawa mutters. "So, what is it? What do you need?"

"I need you to help us," he says, gesturing to Dororo, "disappear."

Kurakawa shakes his head. "I'm not the one to ask. Besides, it would be treason--letting the Daigo clan heir go. No." He shakes his head. "I owe you my life. I get that. You can take it right here, if you want. But I won't betray the clan."

Dororo frowns. Hyakkimaru wishes the kappa had found Oosuji first.

"I'm the Daigo clan heir," Dororo says. "What if I ordered you?"

"Kagemitsu Daigo-sama holds a higher position in the family," he says neutrally. "But why would you even ask such a thing?"

Dororo takes a deep breath and explains it all again: her death, her powers, her infertility, peace with Asakura (which is the only thing that makes Kawakura's eyebrows go up), and the plan to replace both herself and Hyakkimaru with similarly abled look-alikes.

Kurakawa blinks for a solid thirty seconds after she's stopped speaking, as if he's struggling to believe it's real.

Hyakkimaru knows the feeling.

Kurakawa's shoulders slump. "What you say makes a certain kind of sense," he says. "If Daigo had another heir--another son, perhaps--it might be for the best if you disappeared. If you're telling the truth, that is."

"What part of it don't you believe?" Dororo asks.

"I find it difficult to believe that you died, suddenly became infertile and possess demon powers," he says. "It's...far-fetched."

"That's easy." Dororo throws up her hands and morphs into her arctic fox form. 

Kurakawa stumbles backward in surprise, reaching for the knife at his belt. 

"Don't even think about it," Hyakkimaru says, loosing his own swords so they'll be easy to draw. Akiko scoots closer to Dororo and pets her fluffy tail, while Tarou examines her closely, like he's trying to see the real Dororo beneath a disguise. 

Kurakawa shakes his head in blatant denial. "You're not marriageable as you are. Daigo-sama might kill you."

"He can try," Hyakkimaru says.

Dororo changes back to her usual shape and gives him a glare that communicates, "Not the time."

"He threatened you," Hyakkimaru says.

She glares at him a little longer, rolls her eyes, then faces Kurakawa again. 

"If you won't help us disappear," she says, "how about helping us convince Daigo that this is for the best instead? It's not like we're leaving him in the lurch--Akiko and Tarou would be staying to keep appearances up. Most people probably won't notice we're gone."

"Hm." Kurakawa gives Akiko and Tarou a once-over, then glances at Dororo sidelong. "What will you do when you disappear?"

"Kill monsters," she says. "Improve roads. Build cities. What I always do." She smiles. "Just...without the family baggage."

Kurakawa slaps his knees. "All right. I'll take this back to Oosuji, and we'll consider it."

***

Dororo gets a fair understanding of what Kurakawa meant by _consider_ when her own guards ambush them in the forest outside Enuma. Kurakawa and Oosuji are among them, armed, some with bows.

Dororo and Hyakkimaru position themselves in front of Akiko and Tarou. "So, I guess this is why we shouldn't trust spies," Dororo says.

"Too late now," Hyakkimaru mutters.

"Daigo wants to talk," Oosuji calls out from a short distance away. "Just talk. He sent us because Kurakawa said you were a flight risk." She comes close to them, very close, but her sword is put up, and she winks at Hyakkimaru.

Hyakkimaru blinks surprise at her.

"Come with me," Oosuji says.

Dororo sighs and locks into step with Oosuji, feeling Hyakkimaru and the kids moving behind her. "What was that about?" Dororo says. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"If I did, I've forgotten it."

Their escort eyes them warily as they pass into Enuma. The wind picks up as they pass through, and Dororo shivers. She hopes Daigo had bothered to prepare a hot meal for them at least, after all this suspicion.

No such luck. They're led immediately before Daigo, who sits with Hitomi a a low table; behind him sit retainers, some Takeda's, and personal servants and bodyguards. It's an impressively intimidating display, but Dororo doesn't like it. It would be easier to convince Daigo, and to smooth the transition for her to leave, if she could talk to Daigo one-on-one.

Or Daigo and Hitomi. Hyakkimaru hadn't factored in Hitomi helping them, but Dororo considers it possible that she would. She also owes each of them at least one favor.

Dororo keeps her stance relaxed as Oosuji's ring of spies brings her close to Daigo. She bows a little stiffly, and he frowns at her. "You were supposed to come here directly from Konzo," he says. "I have had no word and few reports. _Where have you been?_ "

His final question comes out in a voice like thunder. Dororo does not flinch, though he likely wants her to. She looks to Hyakkimaru, who shrugs and removes vellum-wrapped paper from his kimono. 

Oosuji snatches it and opens it up. Her eyes go almost comically wide, and she passes the scroll to Daigo. 

He takes it and skims it as well, and he sighs. "Is this genuine?"

"Yes," Dororo says. "Kurakawa Kouhei has agreed to become our ally."

Daigo nods thoughtfully, but he looks tired. "How on earth did you accomplish this?"

"I'll tell you," Dororo says, "but it's a state secret." She looks around suspiciously at all the excess people in the room.

"Quick thinking," Hyakkimaru mutters.

Daigo dismisses the row of servants and retainers behind him, with commands to prepare a celebration at the nearby shrines and offerings of thanks to the gods. Dororo and Hyakkimaru are left alone with Daigo, Hitomi, Oosuji, Kurakawa, and a few other spies.

"What is this secret?" Daigo says.

"We got peace with Asakura," Dororo says. "Even though it seemed impossible. But..."

She doesn't know how to start.

"There was a price," Hyakkimaru puts in for her. "We've come because there are...consequences to this that we didn't foresee."

"Of course there are," Daigo says, and his tone is much less severe than before. "What are these consequences?"

To his credit, Daigo hears her out. She explains that she died breaking into the Asakura castle, and gained Kurasawa Kouhei's demonic power...and is no longer capable of bearing children. "In the end," she says, "I'm not useful to you anymore. Not personally."

"Are you asking to leave?" Daigo asks. "I have no control over my wayward son," he says without so much as looking at Hyakkimaru, "but I cannot permit you to leave while you live."

"I knew you wouldn't. I might not be useful to you personally anymore, but the image of me is," she says. "I'll let you keep that. Akiko has agreed." 

Akiko takes a hesitant step forward, and nods toward Daigo.

"This way, you won't lose retainers or face. You'll be able to continue on as you are, as if nothing changed--with peace with Asakura thrown in. How does that sound?"

Daigo sighs. "I suppose I should be grateful that your filial duty extends so far as to bring me a helper to replace you," he says, "but that won't be enough. This girl," he says, and Akiko makes a face, "is not from Kaga. She is not from Enuma. She will have to be educated, as you were," he says. "No. It would waste resources that I do not have. 

"If I had the stability of an heir related to me by blood," he says, and his gaze flicks toward Kurakawa, then toward Hyakkimaru, "you would have more room to negotiate."

"Tarou has agreed to stand in for me," Hyakkimaru says.

"He lacks your bloodline and your experience," Daigo says. "The same objections I have to Dororo leaving apply." He sighs. "I must think. Take my recalcitrant child and her friends to the prison house. Take their weapons, but treat them well, and do not let them leave. Understood?"

Oosuji, Kurakawa and their cadre of spies offer swift simultaneous salutes.

***

Some time later, Dororo's sitting with her back against the wall, empty food tray resting on the dusty ground. At least Daigo had sent down food after he'd taken their weapons. Stairs to the upper level of the prison house are blocked off by a set of wide bamboo doors, and soldiers patrol at intervals, but neither she nor her companions have been chained or tied up.

"It's not the first time we've been locked in a dungeon," Dororo observes.

"Not even the first time we've been locked in one of Daigo's dungeons." He nods. "It was easier to get free when I had sword arms, though."

"Yeah, and it's not like we can just murder and mayhem our way out of here, either," Dororo says with a long sigh. "These are the good guys. Supposedly."

Akiko shakes her head. "How do we get out, then? This is _my_ first time in a dungeon, and I'd rather not stay. I thought you said that spy bitch and her whipped husband owed you a favor."

"I don't think Oosuji and Kurakawa are married," Dororo says with a little frown.

"So not the point," Akiko says.

"Akiko's right," Tarou says. "We need to focus on getting out of here."

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a time, until the soldiers come along to light torches and braziers against the gathering dark. A visitor is announced sometime around dusk, and Dororo straightens up to receive them, thinking it must be Daigo.

She's wrong; Hitomi has come to visit them instead. Oosuji is at her shoulder, a silent shadow--and a safeguard against their escape.

"Hitomi-san," Dororo says with mild surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see that you were being well-treated, as Daigo's command was," she says. 

"No complaints," Dororo says.

" _I_ have complaints," Akiko says.

Hyakkimaru touches her shoulder, and Akiko's mouth snaps shut.

"Truthfully," Hitomi says, "Checking on your welfare is a pretense." Her voice gets quieter as she speaks, until she is whispering. "There is something that Daigo doesn't know yet."

Hitomi places both hands significantly over a small, tight bulge at the front of her stomach that had certainly not been there before, and that is mostly concealed by her clothing. She smiles beatifically at Dororo.

"That means..."

"...Daigo has a legitimate heir," Hitomi fills in. "Our lord admitted that in such a case, there would be room for negotiation." She looks Dororo confidently in the eye. "Leave that to me. Some old friends are waiting for you outside the servants' exit, with your weapons."

"Wait," Hyakkimaru says. "Did you--know about this all along?"

"Not this, specifically. But I've been expecting you and Dororo to run off at some point or another." Dororo pointedly does not look at Hyakkimaru. "I also knew I wanted to help."

"Then why did you capture us?" Hyakkimaru asks Oosuji.

"I winked," she says with a shrug. "Best hint I could come up with without giving the game away."

Dororo and Hyakkimaru exchange glances, and the meaning is clear: _Never trust a spy._

Their waiting friends are, predictably, Iwasa and Kaguya, traveling on foot, though they claim there are horses farther into the woods outside the city. "Kaguya pointed out that horse tracks are easier to track than footprints, especially if we keep on well-traveled roads for a while," Iwasa says. 

Hyakkimaru nods. "How did you manage to get here so fast?"

"...followed you," Iwasa admits, somewhat sheepishly.

"Going into an audience with Daigo with a plan like that was bound to be risky," Kaguya says. "So I decided we'd trail you, make sure you got out of the city safe. Oosuji intercepted us when we came in, and put us in touch with your next contact."

"Next contact?" Dororo asks. "Who?"

"We needed someone who wasn't obviously known to be loyal to you to take you in," Kaguya says. "Daigo will turn Konzo and all the roads between upside down looking for you, so Oosuji commissioned a place for you to lie low."

"What about us?" Akiko asks, putting one arm over Tarou's shoulder.

"Back to Konzo for now," Kaguya says. "Daigo can accept your offer, or not; but I won't send you and Tarou back into danger because an aging despot fails to see reason."

"Maybe he'll mellow out when his heir is born," Dororo says.

Hyakkimaru snorts out a laugh. "Yeah. We all know how well that worked out last time."

***

Hyakkimaru, Dororo, Akiko, Tarou and their escort run the horses ragged and get to Konzo in record time; one horse dies under Iwasa. Without the services of Oosuji and Kurakawa, Daigo's spy efforts are hampered, but not gone, so while it may not be strictly necessary for such haste, they still run. They exchange horses at hidden checkpoints along the route, and enter Konzo after dusk to avoid notice.

As soon as they arrive, Hyakkimaru and Iwasa go to saddle fresh horses and put aside supplies for long travel while Dororo goes off to pack clothing and bandages. Kaguya prepares tea and a meal, and Akiko and Tarou stumble off for some well-deserved rest.

"It's a shame the plan didn't work out," Iwasa says as he and Hyakkimaru shove dried meat strips and crushed herbs into saddlebags. "I'll keep the offer open, though. Maybe Daigo'll come to his senses." He adjusts a strap on the pack so that it won't chafe the horse. 

"So..." Iwasa says. "Now you get to go off on some glorious suicide mission without me?"

"Not this time," Hyakkimaru says. "There are still demons, in Asakura and elsewhere. Ultimately, that's where I'm headed."

"Hm." Iwasa looks at Hyakkimaru. "Why demons? I thought you were pretty chummy with a lot of them, these days."

"I've been chasing demons, in one way or another, since I was born," he says. "It's what I know. It's what I'm good at. And besides, I never said I'd kill them." He smiles. "You should know by now...I only kill demons when they deserve it."

Iwasa nods slowly, expression pinched but respectful. "You'd better write," he says. "The kids'll panic, if you don't. And I hope this contact you're going to see is trustworthy. If you get found a few weeks down the road, I'll be disappointed in you."

Hyakkimaru grins. "We won't get caught. I'd bet on it. You're not my only friend, y'know."

Iwasa claps him on the shoulder, and says, "Yeah, I know." 

"Sorry to leave you with a mess," Hyakkimaru says.

"What?" Iwasa laughs and slaps at his stomach. "I have a wealthy city to govern and an army at my back. Daigo won't fight if we don't. And Asakura's quiet. Things don't get much safer 'round here." He stands up straight. "Go on. Send me a monster head if you think of it."

"I don't do taxidermy," Dororo says, wrinkling her nose as she enters the stable with a rushing Kaguya in tow.

"Let me know if any trade routes get interrupted," Hyakkimaru says. "That's one thing I can do for you."

"I will," Iwasa says. "Take care."

***

Dororo rushes into the basement of Kaguya's house to find something to eat before she finishes packing; she's starving. She finds a large basket, neatly packed, at the bottom of the steps; when she looks around, she sees Kaguya herself sipping tea at one of the low tables near a cooking fire. 

"Not going to say goodbye?" Kaguya asks.

Dororo approaches warily, carrying the basket. "Of course I will," she says. "I just...kind of feel like my stomach's eating me inside out." She opens the basket and finds an onigiri; she swallows it practically whole.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," she says. "But I think we'll be safe when we reach our next contact. For a while." She smiles a little. "And I don't have to go back to Daigo. Ever again. It's..." Freeing. Surprising.

Kaguya nods with a little smile. "If I had the choice, I would have run off years ago." She sighs.

"What will you do now?" Dororo asks.

"Marry Iwasa, I suppose." She sets down her tea. "Kaga will be in crisis for a while, when you leave."

"If only Daigo had taken the deal," Dororo mutters. 

"Yes," Kaguya says with a slight smile. "It was a clever idea. Even if it was unfortunate, for the children."

"They consented," Dororo says. "And they would have been safe. I'm sure of it."

"As am I. Hyakkimaru doesn't train incompetent fighters." She sighs. "Will I see you again here?"

Dororo nods cautiously. "I don't plan to disappear forever," she says. "I'm going to make the world safer for you, and Iwasa, and the Akiko and Tarou and--everyone." She stands up straight and says, "Daigo never gave me any choice, making me his heir. And he threw Hyakkimaru away. We gave him back his life, and his status, and a future. We don't owe him any more than that."

Kaguya smiles. "You don't have to convince me," she says.

There is a brief, uncomfortable silence. Dororo adjusts her grip on the basket Kaguya had packed.

"Write me when you reach your next contact," Kaguya says.

"Of course," Dororo says as she turns to leave.

She hesitates on the steps. "Kaguya. I know it's not my place, or my life, but I don't think you should marry Iwasa unless you want to. You work well together now. Just...keep doing that."

Kaguya smiles: an enigmatic cat grin. "I'll consider it. And I'll come with you. I'd like to see you both off, if this is the last time we'll see you for a while."

***

  
Dororo and Hyakkimaru begin their journey from Konzo in the wee hours of the morning. Hyakkimaru has the information from Oosuji about their next destination, so Dororo checks her horse to bring it up alongside Hyakkimaru.

"So, where to now?" Dororo asks.

"To our contact, further north," he says. "You know him."

"I do?" she asks.

"Oosuji didn't say it aloud, but..." Hyakkimaru fishes something out of a small pouch attached to his obi and hands it to her as they trot along at a slow and measured pace. 

She grins from ear to ear as she recognizes the Takaba seal.

"There's something else," Hyakkimaru says. He passes her the small pouch, and when she opens it, she sees three tiny packages tightly wrapped in paper. 

She opens one, and her smile gets somehow wider. "Green tea mochi," she says. "He remembered. That adorable kid."

"I'm glad he was your friend, in the end," Hyakkimaru says.

"Me too." She blows a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. The wind's picking up. "But we can't impose on their hospitality forever. Is there anything for us to do in the north--any way we can help?"

"Well," Hyakkimaru says, "Jorogumo told me one of her northern cousins needs a stern lecture. And I've heard about droughts following an earthquake further north than Takaba."

"I can irrigate a field," Dororo says.

"You'll have to teach me, then. I know the theory, but I've never done it." 

She lets out a long breath. "We're really doing this."

"We are."

"Not running away this time?"

"I've always been running away," he says. "With Jukai gone, the only home I have is the road."

He says this casually, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

She punches him lightly in the arm. "Stop thinking of it as running away," she says. "Let's think of this as going home instead."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we get a chance to do what I've always wanted," she says, "and that's saving kids like you and me, and Tarou and Akiko. Empowering good people like Iwasa and Kaguya.

"It's too late to save my parents," she says, "and it's too late to save your family from the wreck Daigo made of it. But it's not too late to save the world."

"You might want to lower your expectations," he says.

"No way," she says. "I never said I'd be doing it alone."

"You and me against the world?" he asks with a somewhat hopeless smile.

"Sure, why not? Think we'll be crushed?"

A pause.

"Nah," he says, and half-believes it. He glances at the sun rising through the trees. The wind is at their back.

"Come on," Hyakkimaru says. "Let's go home."


End file.
